


What Happened at New Years

by ChibiMethos



Series: Stone, Oak, & Athelas [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Everybody Lives, F/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiMethos/pseuds/ChibiMethos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Candy Coated Raindrops mentioned that the Erebor dwarves went to Mirkwood for the Elves New Year's party. Here's what happened while they were there. And afterwards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I offered a bit of Dís/Thranduil filler for my readers of Candy Coated Raindrops. This is what happens to filler when you have a sister to bounce ideas off of who likes the same fandoms you do.
> 
> It's not filler anymore. This fits into the beginning of the last chapter of Candy Coated Raindrops, then picks up more or less where it left off.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ***

            The elves’ New Year fell on the Winter Solstice and Men celebrated theirs one week later. This meant the entire Erebor royal family was required to travel first to Mirkwood and then to Dale.

            Thorin grumbled, especially since the elf celebrations started two days before and ended two days after the Solstice. Tauriel was looking forward to spending a few days in her old home, but Lady Dís was merely pensive and didn’t offer any opinion either way.

            To help Fili and Kili enjoy the expected parties more, she taught them both several dances. Kili found the lessons amusing, but Fili made very little progress. She had included the seven princesses in their lessons since they were to accompany the royal family, but Fili mostly spend his time flirting and not paying attention. The princess spent the breaks between dances quizzing Tauriel about elf fashion and hair styles, which drove her crazy as she had never really paid much heed to those sorts of details.

            Between dance lessons, Tauriel helped Dís pack the innumerable outfits they and their men would need. They spent hours with their maids sorting through shoes, jewelry, and hair accessories. Since this was an official—and lengthy— royal occasion, Dís wanted to make sure the two of them looked their best. There would be feasts, dances, informal dinners, and potential impromptu events that would all require a different outfit and nothing could be worn twice.  After several hours of this, though, Dís could tell Tauriel was bored out her mind. Finally, she sent her off to pack clothes for Fili and Kili. Dís knew that if her brother found Tauriel in his room there would be hell to pay, so she took care of Thorin’s things herself.

            It was a rather frazzled group that set out for Mirkwood two days before the festivities started. Arriving early was necessary, giving the number of people that were traveling. The Dwarf entourage left Erebor on horseback and rode to Dale. In Dale, they joined with King Bard and his family and took carriages to the lake where the massive group boarded a yacht to Mirkwood.

            Tauriel kept smiling through the longer than necessary trip as she imagined Thranduil’s face. He knew he had guests coming, but she doubted he was really ready for the fact that 46 people — and their luggage — were about to descend on him _en masse_ —31 dwarves, 14 Men and one elf. When she wouldn’t stop smirking, Kili and Fili demanded in on the joke. She finally relented and explained why she was amused and they told Thorin, improving his mood almost instantly.

            When they arrived in Mirkwood, they were met by an escort from the palace who was indeed shocked to see so many people. Runners were sent back to the palace to alert the staff and fetch more horses. It was dark by the time the group reached the palace and Tauriel just wanted to go to bed, snuggle with Kili, and pretend the world didn’t exist for the next few hours.

            Instead, the servants that accompanied the royal families were shown to their master or mistress’s quarters, and the much diminished number of official guests — now 18 — were shown into Thranduil’s Throne Room.

            Thorin, Lady Dís, Bard, and Princess Sigrid were at the head of the group. Fili and Prince Bain followed, with Kili, Tauriel, and Princess Tilda next. The dwarf princesses from the Seven Families were left to arrange themselves as they saw fit. When this rather motley crew arrived in the Throne Room, Thranduil was waiting on the dais, and Legolas was standing nearby.

            The guests stopped before the throne and the three kings eyed each other without speaking for a moment. Tauriel suppressed a sigh. She could tell by the way he was sitting that Thranduil was relaxed and in a fairly good mood, but that also meant he would be in the mood for toying with his guests. Finally, he rose and descended to ground level.

            “King Thorin, King Bard. Welcome.” He looked at Sigrid. “I do believe you have grown a bit since I last saw you, Princess Sigrid.”

            Sigrid blushed and lowered her gaze. This tugged a slight smile from the Elf-king and then he turned to focus on Lady Dís. He took her hand and separated her from the group.

            “I bid you fair welcome, Princess Dís.” He kissed her hand and Fili, Kili, and Thorin went stiff. Bard’s eyebrow rose and Tauriel really did sigh. Thranduil tucked the dwarf princess’s hand into his elbow and faced the group.

            “It is a pleasure to have _such_ a party to welcome the New Year. Come, the table has been laid for dinner.” He started for the dining room and the others had little choice but to follow him. Tauriel wasn’t really hungry, but she knew the dwarves would be.

             The table in the small formal dining room, in the family wing, was fair groaning under the weight of the dishes it held. The colourful array of platters of game, fish, fruit, wine, bread, and cheese elicited a delighted murmur from most of the dwarves. Tauriel was sure there were trays and carts of pies and sweets waiting just out of sight and sighed again.

            Everyone sat more or less where they wished, but still settled roughly by rank. Kili edged closer to his brother, putting Tauriel between them and Sigrid on Kili’s left. Tilda was seated to Fili’s right, and when she saw who her seat mate was to be, she blushed and looked down at her lap. Sigrid smiled and leaned down to whisper to Kili:

            “Tilda fancies she’s in love with Prince Fili.” Kili chuckled.

             “Does she, now?” He asked, grinning.

             “Well, that’s this week. Last week it was Prince Legolas.”

             Tauriel laughed along with her husband.

             Down table, the Seven Princesses were scatted between Bard, Thorin, Bain, and Legolas. Thranduil took the top seat, placing Lady Dís on his left. She could hardly protest, since she was the highest ranking female in the room.

           Everyone was served and ate without talking for the first few minutes. After the edge was taken off most appetites, Thranduil surveyed the table like a benevolent father, proudly admiring his children, and then turned to Thorin and Bard.

          “How goes the rebuilding in Dale and Erebor?”

          Thorin looked like he didn’t want to answer, but after a moment, he put down his fork.

          “The work in Erebor is nearly finished. I have sent our best masons and crafters to assist in Dale.”

           Bard nodded. “For which we are grateful. The dwarves work quickly, and take a great deal of pride in sharing their skills with those that are interested. There are nearly a hundred families that have returned to the city. Most of them intended to begin farming in the spring.”

           “A hundred farms will hardly allow for surplus storage, much less trade,” Thranduil said. “And I do not think the land will support a healthy crop just yet.” He sat forward. “I will send some of my people to assistance you. They can help with the planting and healing the soil so you will have a decent crop this time next year.”

          Bard inclined his head in thanks and Dís shook her head.

         “My kings, these days before us are intended for feasting, celebration, and revelry.” She looked over the group. “We sit here as family, friends, and allies. That is why we are here, and why we will be in Dale in a sennight. Can we not set aside business for the time in-between or until after the New Year altogether?”

          Thorin grunted and resumed eating. Bard saluted Dís with his wine glass. “Well spoken, my Lady. Forgive us—we would not be the leaders of our people if we did not eat, breathe, and live our work. But you are correct; we have, I think, earned this break.”  
           

     Thranduil leaned over, resting his elbows on the table, and cradling his chin in his hand, smiled at Dís.  “Forgive me, my Lady. It has been a long century since I had a consort to set me in my place. My queen would often admonish me for the same behaviors. I will endeavor to stay focused. We are, after all, on vacation.”

        She nodded, and resumed eating. Three of the princes shared a look of horror, before dropping their eyes back to the table. Thorin was glaring daggers at Thranduil as he continued to talk softly to Lady Dís, personally refilling her wine glass, or encouraging her to try some trifle he thought she might like from his own plate.

       Tauriel noticed, but didn’t really pay close attention. She picked over her own food and listened with half an ear while Sigrid and the seven princesses talked about clothes and hairstyles. Sigrid seemed to be just as in the dark on that subject as Tauriel, but unlike the elf, she was more inclined to learn the particulars.

        After an eternity, the scant remains of the main meal were cleared away by silent servants and the deserts were brought out. As Tauriel had predicted, there were dozens of cakes, pies, ices, and sweet breads, as well as more wine, but she had had enough.

            “ _Ada_ , I need to sleep. Excuse me.” She said in Sindarin. Thranduil waved her away.

            “This is hardly a formal evening, Tauriel.” He glanced at her. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

            “Weeks,” she said. “I many have responsibilities in Erebor.”

            “Hmm. Sleep well.” He dismissed her with an off handed wave, and resumed talking to Dís.

            Kili looked up at his wife, instantly concerned. “ _Melamin_?”

            “I’m just tired,” she assured him. “I’m turning in early.”

         She curtsied to the table at large and a servant led her to her rooms. She was not in the common rooms where she lived before her marriage, but in the family wing of the Royal Apartments. The room she was to share with Kili was twice the size of her old rooms, with a bath and a small balcony.

            No sooner had she begun trying to loosen the laces on her dress when the dwarf maid that was assigned to assist her arrived, muttering about the fact that she had to run all the way there.

            “I’m sorry,” Tauriel told her, sitting down on a low stool.

            “It’s not yer fault, milady. This place is a bloody maze!”

            Tauriel laughed and tried to keep herself awake long enough to get into her nightgown. The maid worked quickly, and Tauriel was in bed within a half hour. She didn’t hear Kili when he finally joined her, but she felt the bed dip as he climbed in beside her.

            “Is _Ada_ still being creepy with Lady Dís?” She asked. Kili snorted.

            “Yes. If Thorin doesn’t kill him before we leave, I’ll be shocked.”

            “It doesn’t seem as if she much minds, though.” Tauriel rolled over so she was facing Kili and he tucked his head into her shoulder.

            “I’m telling you, Mother is not interested in Elves.”

            Tauriel closed her eyes. “Perhaps.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

          After dinner, Lady Dís was shown to her rooms. Alone, away from Thranduil’s piercing gaze, she felt her lungs unbind and her heartbeat slowed. Dís leaned against the door, trying to catch her breath.

            From the first moment of her re-introduction to the Elf-king, she knew she was going to have a problem. As a child, Thranduil was just another boring adult in a string of boring adults coming to see her grandfather. When Erebor fell, she was not yet an adult, and still had little interest in the opposite sex. Growing up on the road had exposed her to males of all races, and there were a few she had spied among Men who were not too hard on the eyes, but she was never interested in them.

            After the death of her husband, Dís was sure she would never have eyes for another being on earth. Raising her sons was her main focus, as well as helping Thorin keep their people together — in good condition and good spirits. After they settled in the Blue Mountains, a few dwarves had let her know over the years that they would not be opposed to getting to know her better, but she wasn’t interested, and her sons did an excellent job of keeping possible suitors at bay as they grew older.

            Since her memories of Thranduil were vague and unpleasant, she wasn’t at all concerned about meeting with him. After all, he was the king that allowed her people to drift in ennui without lifting a finger to help them. But perhaps she had been alone for far too long. Dís knew that she wasn’t in love with the Elf-king. That emotion had gone to her husband, and would always remain with him, but her reaction to Thranduil could not be anything but unadulterated lust.

            Sighing, she pushed away from the door and sat at the dressing table to begin unbraiding her hair.

            _‘Dís, get ahold of yourself,’_ she thought, pulling loose the last of her braids and studying her reflection.

           For a dwarrowdam, she knew she was considered a well-looking woman. Her figure was broad and sturdy—a reflection of childbirth, decades at the forges with her brother, and weapons training. She was nearly as tall as her brother and sons, and her thick hair still held a good deal more black than Thorin’s. Her beard wasn’t thick, but this generation of Durins had really only produced one handsome figure — Fili. His broader features were a gift from his father, ensuring that her eldest at least would produce some handsome, proper looking dwarrow. Like Kili and Thorin, Dís suffered from a narrow brow and nose.

          Her maid arrived to help her get ready for bed, temporarily distracting Dís from her thoughts. After the girl had gone and she was along again, Dís’ mind returned to the Elf-king. Truly, there was nothing that she should, by rights, appreciate about Thranduil. He was far too tall, his features were delicate and feminine, his ears were too small, and his hair was too blond.

        “In short,” she muttered to the dark room. “He is nothing.”

          And yet, she could not stop thinking about him, and it was getting harder to ignore her physical reaction to him. Sighing, Dís relit the candle beside the bed. Another night without sleep was clearly before her, and here in Mirkwood, there was no forge to escape to, to spend hours smelting and crafting herself into exhaustion.

         Dís got up and paced the room. “Let’s be rational,” she muttered. “Clearly, this is just a case of—”

         Of what? As far as she knew, the only time an elf and a dwarf ever fell in love was Kili and Tauriel! She smiled slightly at the thought of her daughter-in-law. Tauriel was the most practical elf Dís had even met, but that could be a result of having had to work for a living. With her big ears, and red hair, she and Kili would likely have some interesting and—Dís hoped—cute children one day.

         But their situation in no way reflected Thranduil and herself. They were both well past their majorities, were parents, rulers, and –

          “Widowed,” Dís whispered. Maybe that was it! She was reaching out for another soul who might have an inkling of what she herself had gone through. But his wife died centuries ago, long before Erebor fell or Dís herself was even born. For as long as Dís had been alive, there had been no queen in the Greenwood.

         Dís shook her head. No, she could not believe that. She had met plenty of widowers in her life, and she didn’t desire them the way she did this king. Maybe Thorin was right and the elves did have some magic about them that made them so desirable to outsiders.

        _‘But if that’s the case, Thorin wouldn’t hate them.’_

        No, magic wasn’t the answer either. And none of the Seven Princesses were interested in Thranduil. She had heard them giggling at the table, and saw them signing rude remarks about him in _Iglishmêk_ during dinner until Fili had called them to order by threating to have them stand and repeat their comments aloud.

        No, this was all her. Dís tugged at her hair, which was neatly braided down her back for sleeping. Dís tried to recall if she had ever heard of dwarves or elves remarrying or pursuing other relationships after their mate had died.

 _‘But as Tauriel said, that rarely happens.’_ There were widows a plenty among the dwarrow, but most were either so consumed by their grief that they completely devoted themselves to work or they were quite elderly. Elves rarely lost their spouses — due to their immortality and by the practical tradition of only marrying in times of extended peace.

            Dís felt like the walls of her room were closing in on her, but if she left the room, she was afraid of running into Thranduil. No, it was best to stay put. She paced the room a few more times, then marched to the door and yanked it open.

            If she ran into the elf, so be it. If she stayed inside that room any longer, Dís would not be responsible for her actions.

 

***

 

            Thranduil changed for bed without the aid of his valet. The servant stood nearby and collected the king’s discarded frock with an air of offended dignity before departing for the night. Alone, Thranduil poured himself a drink and perched in the chair beside the table to read a book.

            There was nothing on the agenda for the following day. His guests would likely sleep late—Legolas rarely arose before noon—and the kitchen staff would be putting the finishing touches on the feasts that would start the day after.

            Over all, the evening had gone surprisingly well. His attempts to bait Thorin and his nephews had not gotten much beyond clenched jaws, glaring, and bent silverware, but it had still been an enjoyable evening. Besides Tauriel and the Men, talking to the princess of Erebor had been the only real saving grace. The dwarrowdam at least listened and had sensible responses to make.  Why her brother couldn’t take a page from her book was an answer that would likely elude Thranduil forever. It was, however, irrelevant, so he dismissed it.

            Before she had come to beg for Tauriel, Thranduil only had vague memories of a small, over-dressed child peeking at him from behind the pillars in her grandfather’s court. As she was a child, he hadn’t paid much attention to her. As an adult, Lady Dís was far more memorable. He supposed she was attractive, despite not possessing any of the waif-like, willowy fragility of his former queen. Dís looked like a softer version of her brother with less facial hair. Still, Thranduil was very much enjoying flirting with her. It irritated Thorin and his nephews and allowed him to talk to the only other sensible person in the room.

            _‘Still,’_ he mused. _‘I really must stop before she gets the idea that I might be interested.’_

        Tauriel had married Prince Kili and Thranduil still couldn’t fathom _how_ she tolerated all that hair on his face. It had to be scratchy and smelly. He was honestly surprised her skin wasn’t covered with red welts.

        Thranduil opened the book that was lingering in his lap and was soon absorbed in the history of Gondolin in the original Quenya. He was nearly to the Goblin Wars when he heard steps too heavy to belong to an elf pass his door. He looked up.

       Thorin would not be walking the halls at this hour. Kili would be wrapped up in Tauriel’s arms and not likely to leave her anytime soon, if his constant looking after her when she left the dinner table was any indicator and Fili was passed out, having over indulged at dinner. The rest of the dwarves and the Dale party were housed in the guest quarters in another wing, and could not get passed the guards into the family wing at this hour. That, therefore, left only one possible candidate—Lady Dís.

       Thranduil laid aside his book and opened the door. The Princess of Erebor was nearing her own door. She was wearing a long blue dressing gown and her hair was braided into one thick braid down her back. Thranduil watched to see if she would return to her room, but she passed her own door and carried on around the circular corridor. She passed Fili’s room, paused and smiled, likely hearing her son’s cacophonous snores and kept walking. She passed Legolas’ room, Thorin’s, and the room Tauriel and Kili shared. Thranduil leaned against the door frame, waiting to see if she would notice him. She was watching her feet as she walked, clearly absorbed in her thoughts.

         As she came even with him, Thranduil cleared his throat, startling Dís. She looked up, and all the colour drained from her face for a moment, then she flushed an alarming shade of red.  She dropped her eyes, and curtsied.

         “Good evening, my lord.” She moved to pass him and flee to her room. He smirked.

        “Are you having trouble sleeping, Princess? Shall I call a healer and have them prepare a draught for you?”

        “No, thank you. I do not believe that will be necessary. It’s just the strange bed, I think. I’ll be alright by tomorrow night.”

        “Indeed? I understand that when mortals do not sleep, they become most grumpy and unpleasant to be around.” He stepped back into his room, and held the door open for her. “Perhaps another glass of wine will relax you enough to sleep.”

         Dís looked horrified at the thought of entering his room. “My Lord!”

          Thranduil inclined his head. “Please. We will remain in the sitting room. And if you are worried about your clothes, I am just as indecent as you.”

          Her eyes flicked over the long silver dressing gown, and the legs of the green pants he was wearing underneath.

          “Yes, I suppose. We are all adults here and know how to comport ourselves.”

          He smiled. “I do occasionally like to think I am an adult.”

           Dís considered for another moment, then followed Thranduil into his rooms. They sat at the table where he had been reading and he poured her a glass of wine.

            “Tell me, Lady Dís,” he asked handing her the glass. “How are Tauriel and Kili getting along? I understand he is still quite young.”

            Dís nodded. “He is. Hardly older than Bard’s eldest daughter.  They are . . . _besu_ _minai_ – a unique couple.” She studied her glass for a moment then set it down. “But they manage. And I believe they love each other.”

            Thranduil smiled slightly. “Indeed? Drink your wine.”

            Dís nodded, and took a small sip. “They are rarely apart. All Erebor is looking forward to the announcement that they are to be parents. But I think they want to wait until Kili is a bit older.”

            “A wise decision,” Thranduil agreed. They fell silent, and Dís pushed her glass back and forth across the table. “I see you speak Sindarin?” he asked her as the silence dragged on.

            “Only a few words and phrases. We did little trade with the elves when we were in the Blue Mountains, so I had no need to learn it beyond my rudimentary lessons as a child.”

            Thranduil nodded. Her father and grandfather were fluent in Sindarin, as was her mother. It was no mere formality, living so close to the Greenwood.

            “And now?”

            Dís shrugged. “We have Tauriel. When the time comes, I will have her set up classes for the dwarrow that will need it.”

            “Well, then you had best hurry. She will not be with you long.”

            Dís offered an unlady-like snort. “She knows how to write. We will work up a solution.”

            Thranduil smirked and saluted her with his glass. “Is Fili still looking for a wife?”

            “He’s still available, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dís said dryly. “But ‘looking’ is rather overstating the issue.”

            “Well, he is still young. I realize he is older than Kili, but his marriage—like Legolas’—will have a huge impact on the future of your people. Such a decision must be made with all care and consideration.”

            “Yes, that is true. But so was Kili’s. Until Fili marries, Kili is his brother’s Heir, and his children after him.”

            “You mean the half-elf ones?” Thranduil asked blandly.

            “The very same,” Dís snapped. Thranduil changed the subject.

            “Are you enjoying being at home again?”

            “Home is where your stuff is,” she answered shortly, then signed and set down her now empty glass. “I’m sorry. I think I’m ready to sleep. It has been a long day.” She stood and curtsied. “Good night, my Lord. Thank you for the drink.”

            “Do you really think so little of me?” he asked. “That I would put you out for one honest reply? Sit down, Lady Dís.”

            Dís hesitated for a second, then resumed her seat. “I’m sorry.”

            Thranduil waved away her apology and refilled her glass. “I will forgive you if you promise to save me at least two dances at the ball.”

            Dís flushed and mentally chided herself for acting like a lass fresh into her majority. This king was not interested in her. Not in the least. She focused on her lap until her face felt cooler.

            “Lady Dís?”  
            “I’m fine. It’s nothing. Of course I would be happy to dance with you.”

            “Excellent.” He offered her a slight smile and noted with interest that her breathing changed slightly. It would seem the dwarf princess was more invested than either of them would acknowledge.

            Dís fiddled with her glass some more and silence fell over them. Dís had been taught from a very early age not to let silence fall in a social situation, but at moment, she was so muddled that she couldn’t think of anything to say. Finally, she noticed the book beside Thranduil’s elbow.

            “What are you reading?” She asked. Thranduil glanced down at the book.

            “Just a history of Gondolin.” Dís eyebrow rose.

            “Why? You’re old enough to have _visited_ Gondolin while it existed!”

            This made him smile slightly. “True. But I did not.”

            “Do you have a library here? Perhaps reading will put me to sleep.”  
            Thranduil’s eye brow rose. “You seem quite anxious to escape my company, Princess.”

            “No, but as you said, we mere mortals need our sleep.”

            “If you fall asleep here, I can simple take you down to your room.”

            Dís made a skeptical sound. “Dwarves are not light weight, my lord. You cannot carry me.” She stood and nearly made it to the door when the word tilted sideways and Dís found herself at eye level with Thranduil.

            “Elves are stronger than they look.” He marched her back to her seat and set her down. “Now,” he said, looming over her. “Stay and talk with me.”

            Dís couldn’t suppress the rather childish giggle that bubbled up. “My lord, you are being _quite_ immature!”

            “Perhaps,” he conceded. Dís giggled again and his gaze dropped to her mouth for a second before he moved away and reclaimed his seat. “Tell me about the Blue Mountains. I’ve never been there.”

            Dís tried to get herself under control and answer his question. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, but she was sure she was.

            “The Blue Mountains? Well — it’s where I met my husband, Garin.” That was a safe topic. Reminding herself that she was married.

            “So I gathered. Do either of the princes take after him?”

            Dís smiled. “Fili does. He’s nearly the splitting image of his father.”

            “So his blond hair is not an aberration?”

            “Oh no! Well, for Durins it is, but in some families, it’s quite common.”

            Thranduil pushed Dís’ still full wine glass back towards her. “Tell me about him.”

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

             Dís woke up the next morning a little disorientated. She was in a bed, she knew that much, and the furniture told her she was in Thranduil’s palace, but the room seemed backwards. She sat up and looked around.

            “Where am I?” she mused aloud, then recalled that the king had stopped her in the hall to chat with him. He plied her with wine and she had fallen asleep in the chair.

            _‘So, by all rights, I should be back in my own room,’_ she thought, tossing off the covers. Her dressing gown was draped over the bedpost. She put it on and opened the door. Thranduil was sitting in the same chair, but he was dressed for the day and drinking tea. The pot sat on a warmer by his elbow.

            “Good morning, Lady Dís. Sleep well?”

            Dís hesitated for a second before joining him at the table. He poured her a cup of tea.

            “Why didn’t you take me back to my room? You said you could.”

            “Yes, but I feared waking you. Besides, elves rarely sleep, and my bed was right there.”

            Dís flushed and focused on her cup. “So, you stayed up all night?”

            “That is not uncommon. I’m not tired.” He pushed a plate towards her. “Sweet roll?”

            “Thank you.” She took one and nibbled while he thumbed through a stack of paperwork that had appeared on the table overnight.

            A companionable silence, so unlike the ones that had plagued them just a few hours before — _‘How_ did _I get so comfortable with him in such a short time?’_ Dís wondered — was shortly shattered by stomping feet in the hallway and Thorin bursting in the door.

            “There you are! What in Durin’s name are you doing in _here_!?”

            Dís took a sip of tea, and placed the fragile cup gently in its saucer. “I am having breakfast with our host.”

            “In your pajamas?!”

            “Well, I haven’t yet returned to my room to dress . . . so yes.” Thranduil’s eyebrow rose and Thorin’s face went red. He glared at Thranduil and took a half step further into the room.

            “Thorin! Get your mind out of the gutter! Besides, I’m an adult. I can eat anywhere I like, dressed however I like. Apologize to Lord Thranduil for entering without knocking and _get out_!”

            Thorin threw Thranduil another hateful look that promised this wasn’t over, and marched out, slamming the door shut behind him. Dís sighed and took another bite of roll.

            _‘Mahal, but my brother is an idiot.’_

            “Perhaps . . . you should have phrased that differently.” Thranduil suggested, amusement lacing his tone.

            “My brother forgets I’m an adult and that of all the beings in Middle Earth, my virtue is safest with you.”

            There was the opening he could only have prayed for to let Dís know his flirting was just that and meant nothing. Instead, Thranduil found himself putting aside the papers he was still holding, and leaning across the table.

            “Really?”  

            His tone made Dís’ face flush and her stomach flutter. Her perception narrowed, and all she could see, hear, and smell was the male before her. And by Mahal, everything about him screamed of his otherness — the paleness of his hair, his height, even the length of his fingers. It tempted her in and scared her away in the same instant. She stood up, nearly toppling her chair in her haste.

            “I . . . need to go.”

            He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to him. Dís felt her breath catch in her throat as Thranduil’s piercing blue eyes traced her face, as if he were committing her countenance to memory. He drew her closer, and for an instant, they were sharing the same air. Their lips met and Dís forgot how to breathe.

            Time seemed to stretch into an eternity.

            Thranduil’s lips were not gentle. He coaxed and demanded her response, and for a moment, Dís was helpless to resist. It had been so long since she had wanted anything as badly as she wanted this moment between them. Her free hand found its way into his soft, pale hair and she pressed closer, desperate for more. A low pleading mew, which Dís realized to her horror was coming from herself, seemed to snap them both back to reality and he pulled away abruptly.

            Just for a moment, his indifferent mask was down, and Dís could see that he was just as affected as she was.  Unconsciously, Dís licked her lips, and Thranduil’s desire darkened gaze followed the motion for a second, then he looked in her eyes, and the calm monarch was back.

            “Do not forget that I am still male, Lady Dís.” He dropped her wrist, and Dís fled.

 

***

 

            Thorin marched uninvited into his sister’s room two hours later. Dís was dressed for the day and sitting at the dressing table, her gaze far away.

            “Dís. Dís!” She started and looked at her brother.

            “Ah,” she rose and went to the table. “There you are. I was wondering how long it would take you to barge in here and start throwing around baseless accusations. Would you care for tea?”

            He paused. “Baseless? Dís, you were in a _man’s_ room in your pajamas! What was I supposed to think?”

          Dís shrugged. “Well, you are a male, so I suppose the gutter is really the only place your mind _can_ default to.” She sighed.

            “Last night, Thranduil heard me pacing about in the hall, and offered to chat with me until I fell asleep. Which I did. It just happened to be in _his_ room. When I got up this morning, he kindly offered me breakfast.”

            Thorin frowned. “That’s all?”

            “Mahal, Thorin!! Thranduil is an _elf!_ He is no more interested in me than you are in Tauriel!”

            “Why does that sound like you are trying convince yourself rather than me?”

            Dís sighed again and poured herself a cup of tea. “Thorin, really. Look at me and tell truthfully—what about me would make me desirable to an elf?”

            Thorin looked away. “Dís—”

            “Exactly. _Nothing_. Please, just listen to me. Nothing happened last night. And even if it had, I’m over 150 years old! I think I can handle myself.”

            “Dís, I just don’t want to see you hurt—”

            “By what? What about Thranduil makes him more dangerous to me than . . . say Bard? Neither of them are dwarves, and they are both widowers with children, and kingdoms to run. Hurt by what, Thorin?”

            Thorin sighed and came to sit beside her. “I’m sorry.”

            “Don’t apologize to me. I already know you’re a bone-head. You need to beg our host’s pardon.”

            He nodded. “I just worry.”

            “Thorin, please. Give me _some_ credit. Now, where are my children this morning?”

 

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

           After he left Dís, Thorin reluctantly went down to Thranduil’s private office and offered a rather terse apology before going to watch the archery competition between Kili, Tauriel, Bard, and Legolas. Dís was already there, sitting with Bard’s children and Fili. Bain and Fili were making bets on who might be the winner and Dís was talking to the girls. Thorin sat beside Fili and the four combatants got started.

            Bard had the advantage of height, but some of that was negated by the fact that he was using a long bow against three recurve bows. They all lined up and shot until their quivers were out of arrows. Sigrid then went to inspect the targets. She lingered over each, studying them with care, before she smiled and turned to face the waiting group.

            “The result . . . is a four way draw,” she announced. “Everyone hit the target dead center. Kili has the best clustering, but that wasn’t the point of this.”

            This news resulted in much laughter and teasing and after their next three tries ended with much the same results from Dís’ inspection and Thorin’s everyone agreed there was nothing to be done but raid the kitchen for some ale and call it even.

            Over a late, informal lunch in the kitchen, Tauriel told Bard and Legolas about the archery classes she was starting. Both were curious and asked to come and see the exhibition that was being planned for the summer to show off what her students would be learning over the winter. Thorin offered no comment against the idea, so Tauriel happily agreed.

            After they ate, the group broke up and returned to their rooms to rest for the following day. Alone, Dís resumed brooding about Thranduil. Their brief kiss had haunted her all day and she had been glad of the distraction of the archery contest to draw her mind away for a moment.

            _‘I don’t understand why he did that.’_ Dís mused, pulling a dress out of the wardrobe and holding it up for inspection. She needed something for the first of the balls the following evening and suddenly, nothing seemed like it would suit and it was far too late to send back to Erebor for more gowns.

            She tossed the blue-grey silk onto the bed and took out the red brocade. If she knew what _He_ was going to wear this would be a lot easier. Dís dropped the gown.

            _‘It doesn’t matter what He’s wearing!’_ she scolded herself. _‘We’re not a couple, and have no need to be dressed alike.’_

            “Oh! I’m going crazy!” Dís dropped her head into her hands. “Stop it, Dís! You are the Matron of the House of Durin! Act like it!”

            She picked up the red brocade and laid it on the bed, on top of the blue-grey silk. The next few gowns were met with equal disapprobation, so she gave up and went down to Tauriel and Kili’s room. Tauriel opened the door before Dís had a chance to knock.

            “I heard you in the hall,” she said with a smile. “Is anything the matter?”

            “I just have a question about tomorrow. Are there any colours I should . . . avoid wearing?”

            Tauriel shook her head. “No. Most of the ladies tend to favor reds and greens, I have noticed. _Ada_ tends towards blues, but that also depends on his mood.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yes. When he’s relaxed, he likes blues, dark greens, and reds. If he’s not—burgundy, silver, black—it’s crazy.”

            Dís took a deep breath. “Good. I don’t want to clash with anyone.”

            Tauriel laughed. “I doubt that will happen, Lady Dís. Would you like to come in?”

            Dís shook her head. “No, I’m still trying to decide what to wear tomorrow.”

            Tauriel shook her head. “I’m wearing clothes.” Behind her, Kili snorted.

            “I hope so.” Tauriel glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him.

            “You are not helping.”

           Dís laughed and returned to her room. Her youngest had truly found his perfect match in that red-headed elf.

            _‘And why are elves so tangled up with the House of Durin?’_ she glanced towards Thranduil’s room. _‘Stop it, Dís. It was noting, not even a real kiss.’_

            She took dinner in her room, still not sure she was ready to face Thranduil yet and spent a good portion of the night giving herself advice on how to act the following evening.

 

***

 

            Thranduil, for his part, was still confused as to _why_ he had kissed Dís, but didn’t really begin to dwell on it until she walked into the pre-dinner gathering in the salon the following evening. All the ladies had taken luncheon in their rooms, and none of their men had seen them the whole of the day. Thorin was talking to Bard and Fili as they waited. Kili had taken it upon himself to be polite to their host and he and Bain were managing a somewhat one-sided but civil conversation with Thranduil. Legolas deliberately kept himself at a distance from his father’s guests, only pausing to speak with the elven nobles that approached him. The rest of the noblemen and male guests were circulating and glancing at the door, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the ladies.

            A long last, a horn sounded, and silence fell in the room instantly. The doors were opened and the rustle of silk was heard as the ladies entered the room singly or in pairs. As the highest ranking female in attendance, Lady Dís was the first to enter, followed by Tauriel. Princess Sigrid out ranked her by virtue of birth, but the fact that she was married meant that Tauriel took precedence.  Sigrid and Tilda came in together, and the Seven Princesses followed. After them, was a steady stream of colourfully clad, noble elfin ladies.

            Thranduil reached Lady Dís before Thorin did, so he was to be her companion for the evening. Dís smiled politely as he took her hand and led her to her brother, mentally cursing that despite finally settling on the blue-grey silk, she _still_ looked as if she and Thranduil had co-ordinated their outfits. The Elf-king was resplendent in a dark metallic blue silk robe, embroidered with silver vines and abstract leaves.

            Thorin bowed to his sister. “You look lovely as always, sister.”

            “Indeed,” Thranduil answered before Dís could respond. “I do believe you have put nearly every other lady in attendance quite in the shade.”

            Thorin glared and Dís looked away. Her eyes fell on Kili who was gazing up at his wife as if she had just floated down from the Timeless Halls of Ilúvatar Himself. This brought a smile to her face, and Dís turned back to Thranduil.

            “Thank you, my lords, for your kind words.”

             Across the room, Fili was good naturedly teasing Tilda and flirting with Sigrid under Bard’s watchful eye, leaving the rest of the dwarf princesses to find their own amusements. Bain was watching them with the half disinterest of a boy not quite sure if he wanted to talk to a female or should run away from them, and Legolas was looking even more aloof and disgusted than ever.

            Thranduil looked over the assembly and taking Lady Dís’ arm, turned towards the doors. Everyone moved into the dining room. As the guests took their seats, Thranduil found himself oblivious to everything but Lady Dís. As far as he could tell, she was unaffected by their encounter the previous morning, and that irritated him. He wanted her to blush when she looked at him, not offer him cool smiles and turn away. He watched her speaking with Bard, who was seated to her left, then glance across the table at her brother, who was on Thranduil’s right.

            For most of the dinner, Dís completely ignored Thranduil, and he was determined by the time desert was served that he was going to monopolize her for the remainder of the visit, the rest of his guests be dammed. For her part, Dís was silently congratulating herself on _not_ blushing every time Thranduil’s leg brushed hers under the table and for speaking so calmly to him when she was forced to by being called on directly. The rest of the time, she spoke to Bard and to Tauriel who was just on his other side and had a fairly pleasant meal.

            When the table was cleared, Dís rose, and led the ladies out of the room, leaving the men alone for after dinner drinks for another half hour. Back in the salon, Tauriel joined Lady Dís near the fireplace.

            “Dís, are you alright? Thranduil was looking at you rather pointedly during dinner. Did something happen?”

            Dís blushed and shook her head. “No, dear. He’s probably just trying to rile Thorin up or something equally silly.”

            Tauriel frowned. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “But somehow, I get the feeling he’s only thinking about _you_ at the moment.”

            Dís laughed. “Really? Well, I’ll accept the compliment in the sprit it was given, but Tauriel? Thranduil is an elf. I’m a dwarf. And yes, I realize my son is as well, but while the relationship may work with the two of you, somehow I don’t think it translates so well the other way.”

            “Hmm. _Ada_ has been alive long enough to know a handsome female when he sees one,” Tauriel said. “And I am in no way suggesting that you _should_ , or that it _is_ — but there doesn’t seem to be any harm in taking advantage of an opportunity that’s being offered.”

            “Opportunity?” Dís was becoming morbidly fascinated by the rather perverse conversation. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that as young as she looked, Tauriel was nearly 1,000 years old.

            Tauriel nodded. “Yes. Opportunity. Ever since the queen died, _Ada_ has not spared a glance for another female—Man, Elf, or Dwarf. Not in over 500 years. And yet, here he is, demanding dances from you, flirting, and generally being more charming than I have _ever_ known him to be. I cannot imagine that either of you are looking for a long term commitment, but you have nearly three weeks to spend before life and responsibility take over again. Why not take advantage of it?

            Let him understand that it would be a temporary . . . arrangement . . . and when the holidays are over, everyone returns to their lives—perhaps on slightly better terms and you both move on. He will not remarry for _centuries_ , if ever, and I know dwarves do not, so what’s the harm?”

            “What’s the harm? Tauriel, do you really think anyone can distance themselves emotionally from such . . . an arrangement for very long?”

            “Well, that’s why it can’t be a _long_ arrangement. What is three weeks?”

            What indeed. Dís considered this, as Tauriel’s attention was called away by Sigrid and Tilda.

            _‘Could I truly countenance a three –well two and a half week—long affair with Thranduil? How would I even broach the subject? Mahal, what if she’s reading him all wrong? I’d be humiliated beyond anything! I’d never be able to leave Erebor again. I might have to move back to Ered Luin for my own sanity.’_

            Dís glanced at Tauriel. Thranduil had raised her, and she was the captain of his guards for 300 years. In that time and those capacities, it was her _job_ to learn to read the king at a glance. Mahal knew Dwalin was an expert at it when it came to her brother. Thorin!

            He would be furious if he found out! Dwarf women were precious and only her station as his acting queen kept her from being locked securely inside the gates of Erebor, never to see the light of day again. And having grown up on the road, Dís had come to love the free air and sunshine far more than the dark, cool walls of their native homes.

            She sighed. Thorin _would_ lock her up if he found out. He would lock her away so tightly her own sons would not be able to find her. Mahal Himself would need a map to locate her body, assuming she would even be allowed into the Hall of Waiting. And Thorin would rain so much vengeance down on Mirkwood Melkor would try to leave the Void in a jealous attempt to stop him.

            Would it really be worth it? Dís mentally shook her head. No, Tauriel was wrong. Thranduil was just trying to push Thorin’s buttons, and she was not going to let him distract her anymore.

            Resolved, Dís sat on one of the numerous padded benches in the room. Tauriel and Tilda joined her and the men arrived soon after. Thranduil made a bee-line for Dís as soon as he came into the room and Tauriel rose and urged Tilda to join her father while she went to greet Kili. Thranduil sat beside Dís.

            “My lady, you have been rather pointedly ignoring me all evening. Have I done something to offend?”

            Dís glanced at Thorin, who was standing across the room, talking to Fili. Fili was watching her as well, but there was less hostility in his gaze than in his uncle’s. Thorin looked like he wanted to rip off Thranduil’s arms and beat him to death with them, while Fili just seemed confused. She turned back to Thranduil.

            “I am sorry if you thought that, my lord.” She stood up. “Will you be claiming your dances this night, or will I be forced to hold them over?”

            “Forced?” He frowned. “I will claim one tonight.”

            She sighed. “Why not both?”  
            “Because I have a feeling if I do, you will hide in your room the rest of this visit and I will not get to see you.”

            Dís curtsied and went to talk to her brother.

            “What does he want with you?” Thorin demanded when she arrived at her side.

            “He asked me to dance.” Dís figured the truth would be less difficult to deal with. “As is his right. He is our host,” she reminded him.

            Thorin grunted and Fili frowned thoughtfully.

 

***

 

            The party milled about in the salon for a few more minutes, then Thranduil came to reclaim his companion and everyone trailed into the ball room. Dís was placed in the seat where the king’s consort would normally sit while the rest of the guests gathered near the walls. Kili and Tauriel took their seats, as did the rest of the royal guests. Thranduil rose.

            “Tonight is the beginning of our New Years’ celebrations. It had been a year of renewal, and rebuilding and the forging of new alliances.” Here, he glanced at Kili and Tauriel. “Let us hope the good wishes of all here will carry us well into the New Year.”

            The guests offered polite applause, and Kili leaned over the arm of his seat. “Do you think he’ll ask Mother to dance again?”

            “No,” she said, pointing. “He already did.” Thranduil was leading the dwarf princess out for the opening dance. Kili gaped, Thorin looked stoic, and Fili and Legolas just looked defeated. Only Tauriel and Sigrid were smiling.

            Dís had rather hoped Thranduil would not do this to her, but at the same time, perhaps that meant he was growing weary of whatever game he was playing and would leave her in peace the rest of the evening.

            “Smile, my lady,” he told her softly as the music began. “Or people will think I’m hurting you.”

            This made her laugh. “I think there is plenty of speculation on your motives without pain factoring in.”

            “Princess, you wound me.”

            “I highly doubt that.”

            His eyebrow rose. “You really do no trust me, do you?”

            “I . . . do not understand why . . . you are singling me out. There are plenty of pretty elf maids here who would dearly love to have the sole attention of their king.”

            “So, you are admitting that I am singling you out?”

            “My Lord!”

            He offered her a calm smile and led her through a rather complicated turn. When they were facing each other again, Dís’ face was once again placidly blank.

            “Princess, Dís, do not shut me out.”

            “My lord?”

            “Dís, we are, as you said just a few days ago, both adults here.”

            Dís felt herself blushing. “I . . . don’t . . . know what—”

            “Yes or no?”

            “I—”

            “Yes or no? One word and this could all be over.”

            Dís didn’t answer him. They finished the dance in silence and he escorted her back to her seat. The evening progressed slowly as various couples took the floor. Kili dances with his wife, Fili convinced Bard to let him dance with Sigrid and Legolas unbent enough to dance with Tilda.    

         The party broke up at midnight, and Dís hurried back to her room, more to escape Thorin’s questioning glances than anything. She knew it wouldn’t be a long reprieve, and she wasn’t disappointed when he knocked on her door half an hour later.

            “Yes, brother?”

            “What did Thranduil say to you?” He demanded, pushing into her room. Dís sighed. She returned to the dressing table and continued unbraiding her hair.

            “Nothing.”

            “You keep _saying_ that, but I don’t believe you.”

            “Thorin, for once, he was trying to be silly and make me laugh. It only half worked.”

            “He  . . . wanted . . . _you_ . . . to . . . laugh?”

            “ _Yes_ , Thorin! Sometimes, people _like_ it when others are in a good mood! I know you’re forgotten how, but some of us still have _some_ manners left!”

            Thorin started to protest, then allowed that his sister was right. He’d spent so long brooding about everything—from the loss of their home, to keeping their people together, to helping her raise her sons, to the reclamation of said lost home, that he had rather permitted his good manners and sense of humor to fall by the wayside.

            “I’m sorry, Dís. You’re right. I’ve been a grump this entire visit.”

            “Yes. You have. Look, I know you hate Thranduil, alright? No-one knows it better, but part of playing the diplomatic game is _pretending_ you don’t.” Her head dropped to the table top.

 “Mahal, now I sound like Balin!”

            “No, you’re right. And I haven’t been trying.” He moved to her side and they put their foreheads together. “I’m sorry, little sister. I really must remember that you are grown. And you’re being a far better diplomat than I am at the moment.”

            Thorin left her to get ready for bed. Her maid helped her out of her gown and when she was alone, Dís began pacing the room again. She hadn’t given Thranduil an answer to his thinly veiled—

            _‘Proposition? Request? Proposal?’_

            “Argh! I can’t do this!” Dís started to go to bed, but knew she wouldn’t sleep. _‘He wasn’t serious,’_ she thought. _‘He can’t be.’_

            But Tauriel had seemed so _sure_. “But she’s not the one with something to lose if this doesn’t work.” She threw up her hands and went out into the hall. _‘Why am I even debating this when clearly, I already know what my answer is?’_

            Dís hesitated outside of Thranduil’s door, still feeling a little unsure, and after a moment, she started to walk away, but he opened the door. They stood for a moment, looking silently at each other, then he stepped back and she entered his room. He shut the door quietly behind her and locked it.

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

             The third day of parties was the Winter Solstice. Being the official New Year’s Day as well as the shortest day of the year meant that the parties started early and ran late. Unlike the dwarfs’ somber reflective day, the elves were rowdy, loud, and drunk. Fili and Kili decided they rather enjoyed the way the elves brought in the New Year, and even Thorin had to admit it was much more lively that any other elf event he’d ever attended.

            The elves were all dressed in white or some variation of it, depending on their colouring, and the dancing was open to all the couples the dance floor could support. For the most part, Thranduil stayed on the dais, drinking wine and watching the revelers. Dís was seated beside him, her hair elaborately braided with diamond and mithril beads that twinkled and sparkled as they caught the light and reflected the pearls sewn on her bone coloured silk gown.

            Most of the guests were too far into their cups to notice that Thranduil was holding Dís’ hand, playing with her bracelets, and running his fingers up and down her arm.

            “Stop it,” she whispered finally, pulling away. He caught her hand back and turned it over, kissing the inside of her wrist.

            “Never. Come, my dear, the floor has cleared somewhat. I wish to dance.”

            “You’ve already had the two I promised you,” she protested.

            “Really? I’d quite forgotten. Well, then I’m claiming another for now, at least two more for tomorrow and the day after, and all off them for the Dale party.”

            Dís shook her head in amusement and followed him onto the floor. “You are going to get us caught.”

            Thranduil stopped and looked at Dís. “Are we doing something wrong, my lady? Truly, I had not noticed.”

            Dís rolled her eyes and skipped into a turn, since they were joining a set already in progress. They had to briefly switch partners, putting her with Thorin, who was dancing with one of the Seven Princesses.

            “Good to see you that you are starting to enjoy yourself, Brother.”

            Thorin snorted. “I have little choice. Fili is spending all his time with Bard’s eldest daughter.”

            “Really?” Dís grew thoughtful as they separated and she rejoined Thranduil.

            “Is something wrong?”

            “No, just thinking about my children.”

            “Yes,” Thranduil sighed. “Them.”

           He looked over at Legolas who had been forced, out of politeness, to dance with a dwarf princess as well. Unlike his father, he was clearly not enjoying himself and neither was his partner. Dís followed his gaze and laughed.

          “Perhaps he will be more used to the height of his partner by the time we get to Dale.”

          That got a small, soundless laugh out of the Elf-king, and Dís decided her work on earth had been completed. She actually got Thranduil to laugh at something.

          The dance finished, and all the couples hurried off to the drinks table. Thranduil led Dís back to her seat.

           “Tell me something, Lady Dís,” he said after a servant withdrew, leaving them fresh glasses of wine. “Will you truly turn me away when the parties are over and real life must resume?”

         Dís took a sip of wine. “I must,” she said. “As you said, real life will return. For now, I will live with the illusion that there might be something like a future for us. Besides, by this time next year, I may have turned into a frightful old hag and no-one will give me a second glance, least of all you.”

         He frowned. “You really _do_ think I’m that petty.” It wasn’t a question and Dís cast him a baleful glance over the rim of her glass.

         “You’ve done little to prove otherwise, my lord.” She put her glass down. “But that is irrelevant. I wish to enjoy the rest of our . . . acquaintance in peace, and pray to Mahal that we part as friends.”

        Thranduil sighed, not sure why he disliked her being so blasé regarding their relationship.

       “You _cannot_ be as indifferent as you sound.”

       Dís sighed. “Can we _not_ argue, my lord? Please?” Before he could reply, Kili trotted up to his mother. He sketched a hasty bow to Thranduil and turned to her.

       “Mother, you have not danced with anyone tonight besides our host. Please?” He held out his hand and Dís took it.

        “You are right, my son. I have rather been neglecting the rest of you.” She followed Kili away and Tauriel, fresh from dancing with Fili collapsed into a chair near Thranduil.

        “ _Ada_ , I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but please don’t hurt Lady Dís. She’s more fragile than you may think.”

         He frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

         “I’ve known you too long to not understand _exactly_ what’s happening here, _Ada_. And I’m telling you, that when she says it’s done, leave her with a smile. Don’t worry, nobody else has noticed. As long as you behave yourself, my lips are sealed.”

        He picked up his glass and looked over the dancers. Tilda was being taken to bed by her maid, who was half carrying the exhausted child. Thorin and Legolas were glaring at each other, and Fili was spinning Sigrid through another dance. Tauriel smiled at the pair.

        “He’s danced with her six times tonight,” she said. “I think he likes her.”

        Thranduil silently agreed. “But will her father? And when she gets to his current age, if she makes it, she’ll die of old age. He’ll barely be starting his true adulthood.”

        Tauriel nodded. “Well, perhaps it won’t matter. It’s better to grab what happiness you can, while you can, and say nay to the rest of the world.”

        Legolas came up beside her, having gotten tired of glaring at Thorin. “Spoken like a true romantic, little sister. Would you care for a dance?”

        Tauriel smiled and took his proffered hand. “Thank you, brother.”

        They took their places as a new set began. Dís was dancing with Bard, Fili was sitting out, getting drinks for a flushed, but happy Sigrid and Bain was talking to Thorin.

        Everywhere he looked, Thranduil could see that this New Years was a rousing success. His eyes drifted back to Dís for a moment, and then to her brother. For once, Thorin wasn’t paying attention to him. Thranduil knew Thorin would never approve of what Dís was doing. And Thranduil knew very well that while he didn’t want their affair to end, the only way to keep Dís with him would be to marry her. Having one elf in Erebor was bad enough, but for his sister to leave home entirely for one would be completely out of the question.

        Perhaps Dís had the right idea. Live in the moment and look back on it fondly when it was gone. Very well. He would stop brooding and just focus on the now.

 

***

 

            When the festivities in Mirkwood came to an end, the party from Dale returned home to prepare for their guests arrival, but the Erebor party remained behind. There was little point in going all the way home for three days, then coming back to Dale for two days, then returning home again. They would stay in the Woods for three days, travel with the Mirkwood party to Dale and continue home from there.

            Thranduil’s regular work load resumed, and Balin arrived to pester Thorin with the work he could not personally handle. This left Kili, Legolas, Tauriel, and Dís to their own devices, as Fili was obliged to join Thorin. Tauriel mainly spent the few days wandering her old home with Dís and Kili, showing them all of her favorite places while she lived there.

            Legolas stayed holed up in his room, contemplating the change that had come over his father. It was subtle, so slight it fact he wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t imagined it. Still, it seemed as if his father was actually in a good mood.

            _‘And how sad is that,’_ he thought. _‘That I find the very thought of my own father in a good mood to be strange and worthy of questioning and suspicion?’_ He sighed and went to go and find his sister and her dwarves.

            With Thranduil officially back at work, Dís decided to spend her evenings alone, in her own room. The first night, she considered going to him, but decided that, at least for Thranduil—real life had resumed.

            _‘Oh, well,’_ she thought, trying to relax enough to sleep. _‘It’s better this way. No messy emotional scenes or the like. A clean break.’_ Dís still ended up pacing her room most of night, unable to sleep.

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

           The trip to Dale was only remarkable for how cold it was and the amount of ice in the river. They arrived the night before, and Bard greeted everyone at the door and a small staff showed them to their rooms. No-one was expecting anything as lavish as what they had been treated to in Mirkwood, but the Men of Dale had put together a respectable feast that wouldn’t starve the citizenry for the rest of the season.

            The party and dancing were quite on par with the dwarves at their most riotous, and everyone agreed that a good time was indeed had by all. The drinking and dancing started soon after dark and wound to a close well after midnight.

            When Dís got to her room, she was surprised to see Thranduil sitting in the chair by her window. She checked the hall to be sure no-one was about and locked the door behind her.

            “Are you mad? Why are you in here?!”

            “Because, my Princess, our last days in the Woods were rather swallowed by business, so this will be our last in company.”

            There was a knock. “Milady, do you need help with your gown?” her maid called from the hall.

            “No, thank you. I can manage it.”

            “Very well. Good night, milady.” The maid departed and Dís looked at Thranduil.

            “Well, are you going to help me with my gown or not?”

 

***

 

            Later, as Dís lay curled against his chest, she sighed. “This has been a rather pleasant—”

            Thranduil put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Shh. Our time is still our own for a few more hours yet.”

            He felt her smile. “Then . . . I want my wedding dress to be red and black.”

            “Why?” He asked. “That’s such a somber colour for such a joyful occasion.”

            “Hmm, true. But it will be the second time for us, and since there is no precedence, we must set one. Plus, I looked quite well in red and black.”

            “Well, if we’re out to shock people, then I suppose I shall have to wear red as well.”

            Dís nodded. “Of course. I have a ruby and gold tiara I’ve never had occasion to wear, so I must add that.”

            Thranduil raised her chin and kissed her silent. “We can settle on a day and time later, princess. Dawn approaches.”

 

***

 

            Thranduil returned to his own room just before dawn and Dís was sitting at the dressing table when Thorin came to see how far along she was later that morning.

            “Sister, why are you still sitting? We need to go soon. Balin is starting to fret.” Dís laughed.

            “I’m sorry, Thorin. So much has happened over the last week. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

            “Yes, as am I. Well, hurry up. If we can leave within the hour, we should be home before dinner time and if I can get away from Balin, I might be able to have a nap!”

            Dís stood up and shooed her brother out the door. “I’ll be ready, I promise.”

            A little over an hour later, Dís stood beside her brother and politely thanked Bard and his family for their hospitality. The Mirkwood and Erebor parties traveled together for a short while, before their paths diverged. Dís very blandly thanked Thranduil for his kindness, and he kissed her hand, eliciting an audible growl from Thorin. Fili and Kili laughed to cover it up, and both parties went their separate ways.

            “Mahal, but I am glad to be away from that pointy-eared prick,” Thorin muttered. Tauriel shook her head and pretended not to hear him while Kili and Fili loudly talked over the parties.

 

***

 

            When they reached Erebor, Thorin was able to give Balin the slip and went to rest. Dís locked herself in her apartment and didn’t come out for several days.

            Tauriel came by to try and talk to her between classes, but the Lady of Erebor was not At Home. When she finally did come out, she was all smiles and quickly got back into the everyday business of running a kingdom.

 

***

 

            A month after Dís had rejoined the general flow of life, a messenger arrived while she and Tauriel were reviewing menus and other mundane household chores. Tauriel was griping about the lack of vegetables on the menu and Dís was laughing because doing these things by herself, as she was forced to over the years, was dull.

            “Dwarrow aren’t vegetarians, Tauriel. You know that.”

            “I’m not saying they are,” the elf insisted. “But I’ve seen Bifur—” she was interrupted by a knock.

            “Enter!” Dís called. The door opened and a guard hesitantly stepped into the room.

            “Pardon the intrusion, my ladies, but a messenger from Mirkwood has arrived. He has a package and I assumed it was for Princess Tauriel, but he wouldn’t say for certain.”

            The two women exchanged glances. “Show him in,” Dís commanded. The guard bowed and departed. Tauriel smiled at Dís.

            “After he leaves, shall I go?” She asked softly. Dís shook her head.

            “That will look suspicious.”

            There was another knock and Dís bade them enter. A tall elf with brown hair followed the dwarf guard into the room. Dís waved the guard away and when the door closed, the messenger dropped to one knee before Dís.

            “My Lord, King Thranduil sends a gift for the Lady Dís, Princess of Erebor.” He held out to Dís a long, thin box. She stared at it for a moment, then accepted it and he rose to his feet.

            Dís’ eyes flicked to Tauriel, then she smiled up at the messenger.

“Wait outside.” He bowed and stepped into the hall. She took a deep breath and untied the red and black ribbon around the box. Tauriel’s eyebrow rose as Dís smiled fondly at it.

            “Interesting colour choice,” Tauriel said. “ _Ada_ doesn’t usually use red for gift wrap.”

            “It’s a message,” Dís said, pulling the top of the box off. Inside, on a small light pink silk pillow was a ruby and gold necklace. The rubies were tear-drop shaped, surrounded and linked by their intricate gold settings. Tauriel gasped and Dís put the lid back on the box. She took a deep breath and smiled up at Tauriel, tears starting to run down her face.

            “My brother’s going to kill me.”

            Tauriel fumbled around for her handkerchief and gave it to Dís. “Why?”

            “Because . . . your father just asked me to marry him.”

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank my sister, Dear Readers, because my original plan was to end the story here.
> 
> She persuaded me that I would have my own private BotFA on our front lawn if I did.


	7. Chapter 7

            It was obvious to Tauriel that Dís wasn’t going to be composing anything remotely like a coherent reply for a while, so she went out and ordered the messenger to be given accommodation and food for the night.

            “And Lady Dís is not to be disturbed by anything less than another dragon,” She told the guards. They nodded and one hurried off to order a room be prepared. The messenger looked at Tauriel in surprise.

            “They actually do as you command,” he told her in Sindarin.

            She nodded. “Of course. I _am_ their princess.”

            “Well, Captain, there is a rumor at home that you are kept quite locked up, as are nearly all the females of the Dwarves.”

            Tauriel shook her head and sighed. “You can tell the carry-tales at home that there is no such ban on any female in Erebor—and least of all on me.”

            The messenger laughed, and shared a bit more news from home. “It seems that whatever happened at New Years has had an interesting effect on the king.”

            Tauriel’s eyebrow rose. “Whatever do you mean?”

            He smiled. “His mood as improved. He’s not drinking as much and he goes out spider hunting with Prince Legolas sometimes.”

            “Really?” Tauriel was surprised by this. “And . . . how fare the Woods themselves?”

            “Shockingly, improving.”

            Tauriel looked thoughtful for a long moment. “What else?”

            “Well . . . I don’t know. He’s . . . in a good mood. Honestly, no-one is really sure what to make of it all. We’re hoping it’s not a fluke, but at the same time, everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

            “In what way?”

            He shrugged. “We’re not sure. It could be anything. A maid broke a glass at dinner not two nights passed, and you would have thought the world had ceased to spin from the silence that fell.”

            Tauriel shook her head. “Let me guess, everyone was waiting for one of _Ada’s_ usually rages?”

            “Indeed. “But it never happened! He ordered the mess cleaned up, and sent the maid to bed. He said she must be tired to be so clumsy!”

            Tauriel laughed. “Really? He just sent her to bed?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Interesting.” They would have talked more, but the guard returned to show him to his room, and Tauriel returned to Dís.

            Her mother-in-law was still sitting quietly, crying over the jewelry box. Tauriel sat down beside her.

            “I sent the messenger to a room for the night.” She touched the box. “Are you sure about this? About what it means?”

            Dís hugged the box to her chest and nodded. “I’m totally sure, Tauriel. And to be honest, I . . . know what I answer I would like to give. Thorin would not be happy with me.”

            Tauriel smiled. “Really? You would leave the home your brother has only just reclaimed?”

            “Tauriel, I was born here, true, but Ered Luin is my home. That’s where my sons were born, where I married and buried my husband, and lost the majority of my family.”

            Tauriel nodded. “Would you be happy as the Queen of the Greenwood?”

            Dís laughed. “I said the answer I would _like_ to give.” She sighed. “But I don’t suppose that I can have everything I wish. Tomorrow, I will try and think of something sensible to say to Thranduil.” She stood up, intending to return to her room, then dropped back onto the couch.

            “Dís? Are you alright?”

            “Yes, I just felt dizzy for a moment.”

            Tauriel was concerned. “When was the last time you ate anything?” She asked, ringing for a servant.

            “I . . . don’t recall.”

            “That’s what I thought.”

             The door opened, and Tauriel ordered that lunch be brought for them. The servant hurried away and Tauriel began checking Dís for fever. As her hand passed over Dís, she sensed something odd. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but even as her hand lingered, the pulse was growing steadily stronger. Tauriel smiled.

            “Oh, Dís!” She took the dwarf princess’s hand. “You’re not going to believe this!”

            “Believe what? Tauriel, you’re starting to scare me.”

            Tauriel couldn’t resist hugging Dís tightly for a long moment. “It’s wonderful!”

            “Tauriel!”

            The servant returned and food was set out and Tauriel waited until he had departed. She filled a plate for Dís with fruit and a few slices of cold meat, but didn’t let her have it yet.

            “My Lady Dís, my I be the first to offer you joy.”

            “What are you going on—” Dís looked down at her lap for a moment, then up at Tauriel, her face crossed with joy and horror. “OH! But . . . I’m . . . too old!”

            Tauriel laughed and placed the plate on Dís’ lap. “Apparently not. Here, you must eat.”

            Dís nodded and took a small bite of fruit. “Tauriel, what will I do? Thorin will _kill_ me! _US_! I . . . if you are right, I have to protect  . . . oh, Tauriel! What can I do?”

            “Well,” Tauriel considered for a while, nibbling fruit from the tray. “The way I see it, you have a couple of choices. You can tell Thorin the truth, and keep the little one here, and pray _Ada_ doesn’t find out. You can tell Thorin and _Ada_ , and move to the Woods and be queen there with the man you love and your child.  You can stay here, but tell _Ada_ , and allow him to be a father, if only from a distance.” She paused.

            “Or, you can hide the truth from everyone but your sons, and I get to wear a pillow for a year. And then Kili and I will have child.”

            Dís blushed and giggled. “Tauriel, that’s silly. I cannot hide something like this! It’s too big!”

            “Honestly, I’m surprised you two weren’t more careful.”

            Dís huffed. “Like I said, I _thought_ I was too old! I’m over 150! No dwarrowdam has had a child at my age as far as anyone knows! It’s unheard of!”

            “Well, we do seem to be living in a generation for breaking the rules, aren’t we?” They both laughed. “Still, it has only been a month. Let’s come up with a reply for the messenger, and send him away. In another month or two, we’ll better know for sure, and by then you may have decided on your course of action.”

            Tauriel grew sober. “I must warn you, _Ada_ may already sense this new life, and it could be contributing to his rather sudden change in attitude the messenger was telling me about. I do not think you should keep this from him, but I will support you, whatever you decided to do. As will your sons.”

            Dís nodded. “Oh, I know. They will be my best line of defense against Thorin. But you’re right. Nothing need be settled tonight.”

            Dís didn’t really sleep that night. Instead, she spent most of it pacing her room, rubbing her still flat belly, and thinking. She knew if what Tauriel sensed was real, there was no way she was giving it up, even to her own son and daughter-in-law. Besides, Tauriel had a training class to teach, to prove her loyalty to Thorin yet again. Dís sighed.

            Dwarves and elves, Tauriel had told her, carried their babies for a twelvemonth; so really, Dís knew she had until mid-summer to settle on a firm plan. For now, Thranduil’s second? gift must be responded to.

            When Tauriel came to get her in the morning, Dís still had not slept, but she had a reply prepared. The messenger was summoned and she handed him a sealed missive. After he departed, Tauriel went to teach her archery class, and Dís continued the work the two women had abandoned the previous day.

 

           

***

 

            Thranduil accepted Dís letter with a dismissive air and sent the messenger away. He looked at the envelop a long time, then set it aside. Alone in his room that night, he opened it with care. Dís’ Sindarin was indeed rusty and she had written in Westeron if she wasn’t sure of the word she needed, but he could understand it well enough.

 

_My Dearest Lord Thranduil:_

_Tauriel has already helpfully pointed out that if you wish to_

_honor the customs and practices of your own people, we are_

_already married, making your request somewhat redundant._

_But if you mean to honor mine, then we are not, and I_

_gladly accept._

_There is another matter that I must bring to your attention._

_It is major, and will require our minute consideration_

_in the coming months._

_I must wait for full conformation,_

_but I think it would behoove you to pay Erebor_

_an official visit in late July, or early August, at the very latest._

_When you do come, we will have much to discuss._

_Lady Dís, Princess of Erebor_

 

            Thranduil frowned. Why was Dís so insistent and specific about the timing of his visit? She was accepting his offer, which he had not doubt she would, but Erebor was not so far away that he needed a full six months to prepare—

            “Oh. Oh, my.”

He sat down in his chair, starting at the paper, as the true meaning of words Dís dared not commit fully to paper suddenly became clear. Legolas was already going to have a fit, knowing his father wished to remarry, and marry a dwarf at that but this! This was bigger than either of them had foreseen.

            Thranduil grew thoughtful as he ran over every worst-case scenario in his mind. Thorin’s extreme over-reaction and the possibility of war with Erebor, Legolos’ reaction, and the potential temporary loss of face, the possibility that Dís could lose the baby since she was past the age most dwarf woman had children. Still, she was still fairly young and quite strong. He put that thought aside.

            But there was still a chance—however remote, that she might be lost. If that happened, Thranduil knew he’d be in a full out custody battle with Kili, Tauriel, and Thorin. The former would wish to keep the child out of love and the latter out of spite. He sighed. He’d probably let Tauriel and Kili raise the child, as long as they didn’t stay in Erebor. Perhaps they could move to Dale, though Bard would _not_ be happy to be dragged into the middle of such a feud.

            Still holding Dís’ letter, he got up and began pacing the room. But what about the best case? Everyone involved would be surprised but basically okay with it (even in a fantasy, happy would be rather overstating it), Dís would willingly come to the Woods and take her rightful place. Legolas would only bitch and pout for a short while, and he and his new queen would welcome a healthy new little person into the family. And to everybody’s relief, it would be a girl.

            Shaking his head at his nonsense, Thranduil poured himself a drink and pulled out some paper. A number of sleepless nights were ahead of him. There were plans to make, and he’d be damned if he was going to let Thorin Oakenshield keep him away from his child.

 

***


	8. Chapter 8

            When Legolas came to see Tauriel’s archery exhibition, he also brought along his father’s formal announcement of his impending visit. Dís was almost six months in and starting to gain a bit of weight. Dwarves like their females a bit stout, so Thorin dismissed it as her finally accepting life in their new home. Besides, he was too busy grumbling about Thranduil’s impending visit to really pay his sister much mind. They had less than a week to prepare.

            Tauriel pulled Dís aside. “I think you should tell your sons before _Ada_ gets here,” she advised. Dís agreed and the four of them met in Kili and Tauriel’s rooms. They were situated in the back of the family wing, and they were not likely to be overheard.

            When everyone was seated, Dís asked them, “Boys, do you trust me?”

            Fili and Kili nodded. “Of course. Always.”

            “I’m going to tell you something that will shock you. And afterwards, I’m going to need your help with Thorin.”

            The princes exchanged glances. “Mother, are you ill?” Fili asked.

            “No, actually I’m in surprisingly good health.” She offered him a reassuring smile. “You know that Thranduil has been a huge flirt from the moment we met.”

            Fili and Kili snorted. “Yeah.”

            “Well, I thought it was just him being . . . _attempting_ charm.” This made Tauriel laugh, but she quickly muffled herself.

            Dís continued. “Anyway, over the New Year, I decided to see if he was being serious or not.”

            Fili went still and Kili’s face lit up. “And?” Kili demanded.

            “He was serious.”

            “Wow! Mother . . . I . . . wow!”

            Fili glanced at Tauriel. “So . . . then . . . why  have you not moved to his Court? You are his new queen.”

            “True,” Dís agreed. “But, both of us were rather hoping it wouldn’t matter. My life is finite. I’m middle-aged and in less than a century, I will be going to the Halls of our Father’s. Thranduil will go on living. We are not Soul Mates.” She smiled at her youngest son and his wife.

            “It was to be a short interlude in both of our lives—to be looked back on with fondness, but never to be repeated.”

            “Was?” Fili asked. “What changed? Is that why he is coming here so suddenly? Does Thranduil wish to do the honorable thing and claim his wife?”

            “Hmm . . . yes and no,” Dís found she was rather enjoying this. Fili looked every inch the offended son and king, but Kili was calm and happy and kept sneaking glances at Tauriel, who was sitting beside Dís.

            “Mother, it is yes _or_ no; there is no _and_ ,” Fili insisted.

            “There is an ‘and’, my little lion,” she wrapped her hands around the growing bulk of the baby, still hidden under her voluminous dresses. “This is the And.”

            Fili and Kili gasped. Dís smiled at their reaction. “I think it’s going to be a girl this time. Finally.”

            Fili’s face went red and he stood to pace the room while Kili leaped off the couch and put his ear to his mother’s stomach and wrapped his arms around her waist.

            “Oh! It’s moving! Fili, this is really interesting!” He smiled at Dís. “Mother, I’m shocked. I really, really am. But you stood up to Thorin and Thranduil to get Tauriel back to me. I swear no matter what happens, you and this little one will be safe.”

            Kili glanced at Tauriel. “We will do everything we can to help you.”

            Fili paused at his brother’s words, then came to kneel before his mother. “Kili’s right. No Dwarrow ever rejected a child for anything as silly as who his parents are. Them he cannot help. And people are actually looking forward to Kili and Tauriel’s little one.”

            He frowned for a second. “Why not—”

            “No, Fili. But I have considered it. If anything happens to me, they are to take the child and raise it as their own. I have already amended my will to that end.”

            The princes nodded and resumed their seats.

            “Now,” Dís told them. “Thranduil . . . I told him I wasn’t sure several months ago and that was true.  When he gets here, we will have to find a way to talk in private. Then . . . I have to tell Thorin.”

            Fili snorted. “Somehow, I’m pretty sure Thranduil knows you would have let him know by now if your suspicions were proven unfounded. Why not just tell them together?” He shook his head. “It will be highly unpleasant, but Thorin will be less likely to be totally violent in front of witnesses. Also, no weapons should be allowed in the room.”

            Tauriel nodded. “Indeed. Elves have fewer children than dwarves do. I highly doubt _Ada_ will be upset.”

            Dís nodded at Fili. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I’d rather face my brother surrounded by supportive people than not.”

            Together, they worked out the particulars, and it was many hours before they separated to prepare.

 

***


	9. Chapter 9

            The day Thranduil arrived, Fili and Kili dressed with care. Tauriel went to help Dís, since for the moment; they still needed to hide her condition. Fili was helping Kili braid his hair, and he kept muttering under breath as he worked. After he yanked on Kili’s hair for the second time, Kili turned around, rubbing his abused scalp.

            “Maybe I should just ask Tauriel to do this.”

            “Oh, Kili, I’m sorry.” He leaned his forehead against his brother’s for a moment, then turned him around to repair the mess he’d made. “I just keep thinking about Thranduil. Why would he even contemplate an affair with Mother, knowing what the consequences were?”

            “Well, Mother said even she didn’t know she could still . . . be a new mother at her age.”

            “That’s not what I meant.” Fili added a bead to Kili’s hair and started on the second braid.

            “He knows the elves’ laws on marriage. Tauriel I can forgive — it was the night before a battle we had no way of knowing we could win. Sometimes, you just have to take the opportunities that are given you. There were no such circumstances facing Mother and Thranduil.”

            Kili shrugged. “Well, like she said, they were willing to throw the rules aside. It’s not like Thranduil had plans to formally remarry anyway. It’s been 500 years. If he hasn’t found another lady among the elves that he liked by now, the chances are good he never will.”

            He grimaced. “And sometimes . . . things just happen.”

            Fili sighed and finished his work. Kili had two neat, braids framing his face. “I suppose you’re right, Little Brother. No-one cares if boys go carousing in pubs and brothels, but we never let the ladies out for the same reason. You know what—it’s fine. At least we know who he is. It could really be much worse.”

            Kili smiled. “Exactly. Come on, we’ll be late.”

            They joined the ladies in the hall and hurried to the Throne Room. Outside the door, Dís paused and looked at her children.

            “Boys, Tauriel, thank you for being here for me.”

            They nodded, and Fili glanced at the guard. He opened the door. Thorin was pacing before the throne, waiting for them. As the door opened, he straightened and looked at them.

            “Sister, where have you been?” He demanded.

            Dís smiled at her brother as the others took their seats. “I took my time, Brother, that is all.”

            Thorin eyed her closely. Lately, he had been feeling uneasy. He knew Dís was hiding something, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like it when she finally told him _what_ it was.

            Balin glanced at Thorin and he resumed his seat. Balin nodded at the guards and the doors opened again. The party from Mirkwood processes into the room. The elves stopped before the Dwarf king and Thranduil tried to ignore the memory of what happened the last time he was in this room, almost 200 years ago.

            He glanced at Dís. She looked a bit plumper, but otherwise, there was little evidence of her condition. He turned back to Thorin, and they eyed each other for a long time. Thranduil finally inclined his head. Thorin acknowledged the greeting and the silence stretched on. Tauriel stood and went to Thranduil.

            “ _Ada_ , Brother, welcome. Balin, shall we?” She pointed towards the private meeting room behind the Throne Room.

             He nodded. Balin had already agreed with Dís and with Thranduil’s advisers that both kings would be allowed five guards each.

            “I cannot tell you why, but they will be needed,” she told the old retainer. “Let the elves know that they have _my_ permission to restrain my brother if they need to. And tell Dwalin.”

            Everyone filed into the room and the door was shut. They all sat at the table, the guards hovering in the center of the room. Dwalin, at his brother’s request, was closest to Thorin. Dís glanced at Balin.

            “Brother, you will be a little shocked, I think, to learn that I invited King Thranduil to join us.”

            Thorin sighed. “Not really. But why?”

            “Because there is a matter that needs to be discussed and I do not wish to repeat myself.”

            Thorin’s stomach tightened. “Let me guess, I’m not going to like it, am I? He glanced at Kili and Tauriel. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” He asked Tauriel.

            “No,” Dís replied. “She’s not. I am.”

            The silence that fell over the room was awful. Thorin stared at his sister, shocked for a moment beyond speech.

            “Really?” He finally managed. “That . . . seems like a family matter. Why should Thranduil— _NO!!_ ”

            Thranduil remained seated as eight of the guards—all of the dwarves and most of the elves—rushed to restrain Thorin as he leaped across the table. The two remaining elf guards and Fili and Kili ran to circle Dís. Tauriel glanced towards Thranduil and Legolas. Thranduil was watching Dís and Legolas’ mouth has hanging open in a most undignified way.

            “ _HOW DARE YOU FORCE YOURSELF ON MY SISTER!!_ ” Thorin was still fighting against the guards, who were barely restraining him.

            Dís sighed. “That would be horrid if it were true, Thorin,” she told him calmly. His eyes darted to her and he paused in his struggle to free himself.

            “What?!”

            “Even among my people,” Thranduil said softly. “Rape is a crime punishable by torture and death.”

            “But—” Thorin kept his eyes on Dís. “He’s an _ELF!_ ”

            “Please don’t start with that, Thorin. I’m _really_ not in the mood.”

        Balin and Dwalin exchanged glances. When Dís used that tone, physical violence was her next recourse. Thorin relented and sat down, but the guards stayed close to him. Fili and Kili remained flanking their mother, but the two other elf guards backed up.

         “Now,” she began again. “If you are quite finished—I am with child. Thranduil is the father. I was not raped, drugged, magically coerced, drunk, or any other fanciful nonsense you can dream up. It was a willing act between two consenting adults. These are facts, and they are _not_ up for debate.”

        Dís fixed her brother with a hard look. “I _will_ be having this baby, Thorin Oakenshield. That is _also_ _not_ up for debate. If anything happens to me, I have already amended my will. Kili and Tauriel will be given full care of the child, and if they must leave Erebor, so be it. What we _are_ here to discuss is _my_ fate. According to Elven law, I am Thranduil’s legal wife, and therefore Queen of the Greenwood. By our laws, I am not.”

       Thorin frowned, and his eyes flicked to the elf guards standing at attention behind Dís. No wonder then that they had jumped in to protect Dís as soon as she made her announcement.  Thranduil held out a document and one of the guards took it and handed it to Balin.

       “I have asked Lady Dís for a formalization of our relationship,” Thranduil told Thorin. “She has consented. Truly, this entire meeting is a formality.”

       Balin was perusing the paperwork, and nodded. Thranduil was right. Dís was long past her majority and could do as she liked.  While traditionally, no dwarrowdam had ever remarried, there was no law stating that she could not. And when she became an adult, her life became her own. Legally, there was nothing Thorin could do to stop her. He looked over at Thorin, who was glaring daggers at Thranduil.

       “Dís,” his voice was cold. “I demand to know why.”

       Dís shrugged. “I was curious. I loved my husband, Thorin, never doubt that. You didn’t want me to marry then, and I did it anyway. And I was happy. I lost Garin, along with so much of our family, Thorin and it broke me inside for a long, long time. I kept it hidden from you; I had to. I had two sons to raise and a homeless people to help keep together. And you were battling your own demons.”

          She glanced around the room, and up at her sons. “Well, our people have reclaimed their home, and my sons are grown dwarves. They do no need me following them about as if they were still infants. Kili has a wife to look after and Fili is learning to be a king.”

         She turned to look at Thranduil. “I have spent my entire adult life sacrificing for others. I thought I would only have one chance to be loved for _me_ , and that is why I defied you and Father and got married against your — as it turned out, bad — advise.”

           Thorin sighed. Dís was right on that point. He had wanted to keep her a child, and had argued fiercely with her, trying desperately to keep her from marrying. She had done it anyway, and had she not, neither of them would have had any children and he would have no Heirs at all. He looked at Fili and Kili, who were still standing at parade rest on either side of their mother.

          He loved his nephews fiercely, and would not trade them for even a few more years of keeping Dís a child by his side. And as much as he hated to admit it, Garin had been a good dwarf—humble and hardworking. And he had loved his family. He was proud of Fili and would have loved Kili.

         Thorin looked at Thranduil. This elf was apparently going to be the bane of his existence for the remainder of his life. First, he’d been forced to buy Kili’s wife from him, and now the man was determined to steal his sister and her unborn child.

       “What makes you so sure he will marry you?” Thorin asked. “What’s to stop him from simply taking the child and—”

       “Keep talking,” Thranduil told Thorin coldly. “And I will be forced to demand Satisfaction.”

       Thorin’s eyebrow rose. “Really?”

       “You are insulting my wife, my Queen, and the mother of my child.”

        Thorin looked at Dís. She was watching Thranduil, but Fili and Kili were glaring murderously at their uncle.

        “I don’t trust you,” Thorin hissed.

        Thranduil shrugged. “Be that as it may, you did not hear all that I had to say. Dís will most likely wish to remain here until the child is born, and I see no reason for that to change. We can, of course, move to the Woods if she wishes, but I doubt she will. Ideally, we will formalize our union according to your laws, and the child will be born here. When it is old enough to travel, we will remove to the Woods. “

       Dís nodded. “Hopefully, the babe will come before the New Year. If not, we will remove before then, and I will have the baby there.”

        He nodded and Thorin growled. “There is no way I will allow you—”

       “Thorin!” Balin cut him off. “ _They_ are the parents, not you. These decisions are not up to you.”

     Dwarves traced their lineages through the father, but by unspoken rule, the children belonged to their mother until they reached their majorities. Dís ignored her brother.

      “I may have to move sooner rather than later. I doubt Thorin will let me stay here.”

      Thorin stood up and the guards started forward again. He paused. “Dís, come to your senses! _This_ is your home. You belong _here_.”

      Dís turned to look at her brother. “Thorin, Erebor is the home _you’ve_ always wanted. Ered Luin was _my_ home. I love my sons, but they don’t need me anymore. This child, this little person that shouldn’t by rights, be here, _does_ need me. And he needs his father.”

       She held her hand out the Thranduil and he took it without hesitation. Legolas made an inarticulate sound, and Tauriel went to check to make sure he hadn’t had a stroke.

        “Thorin, I like Thranduil. I am under no illusion that we are suffering from a grand passion. I will grow old and die and he will continue living his life. But my youngest child will have a three older brothers and a sister to be companions for life. I want the opportunity to raise a child in safety and plenty and with his whole family there to support us.”

         “Her,” Thranduil corrected. “You keep saying ‘him,’ but I’m fairly certain this child is a girl.”

        She smiled. “I think so too, but it’s a habit.”

        Tauriel returned to her seat. Legolas was fine. Thorin was still glaring at Thranduil and Dís.

        “What if he decides in a few years that his is bored of you as your looks begin to fade and turns his attention elsewhere?”

       Tauriel watched Thranduil’s hand tighten around Dís’ and sent silent thanks to Aulë that he had made the Dwarves sturdy. He was squeezing hard enough to break her hand.

        “Thorin,” Tauriel decided to intervene before entire situation spun completely out of control. “Perhaps you don’t have a clear  . . . picture of how marriage works with Elves. Once we pledge ourselves to our partner, Soul Mate or not, we are bonded to that person until death. They become a part of us  . . . _inside_ of us. We cannot  . . . put them aside. It’s been tried. It doesn’t work. That’s why we are very picky about who we marry.

       If Lady Dís makes _Ada_ happy, then there is something inside them both that their souls recognized that they needed. The elves in the Woods have already noted in improvement of _Ada’s_ disposition in the last six months. He will not harm her, Thorin. He can’t.”

       Thorin glanced at Tauriel as if he had forgotten she was there. “And why would I trust _your_ words on this matter?”

      Tauriel’s eyebrow rose and Fili muttered: “Thorin!”

      She smiled slightly. “My Lord, I realize my situation with Kili _is_ slightly different. We _are_ Soul Mates. My life is completely tied to his. I will not be seeing the Undying Lands, and I accepted that when I realized the depth of our connection. But I _am_ a married elf. I believe I can speak on that subject with _some_ measure of authority.”

        Thorin’s eyebrow rose at the news that she and Kili were Linked. “So you’re no longer immortal?”

        “No. I am . . . just . . . not in the same way. But that is beside the point. What we are concerned with here is _Ada_ and Lady Dís. You are worried that _Ada_ will put her aside for younger woman, but he will not be able to. And even if he tried, the scandal alone would enough to shame him into reclaiming his wife. And he’d _never_ be accepted into polite society again.” She fixed Thorin with a firm look. “And never truly _is_ a long time when you’re immortal.”

         Thorin shook his head. “Dís, I cannot give you my blessing. I will not. I will not accept this, and I will not accept _him._ ”

        Dís nodded. “I rather suspected that would be your attitude. That is why I am prepared to leave at the soonest opportunity. I also know that you will attempt to deny me my sons, but you will fail on that point.”

           Thorin glanced at his nephews. Dís was right. If he forbade Fili and Kili to see their mother, they would simply leave with her and would not return to Erebor until it was time for Fili to be king. Besides, they were considered adults, especially Kili since he was wed. At the moment, both of his nephews were watching him with a hard, unrelenting stare. What he said or did in the next couple of minutes would make or permanently break his relationship with his nephews. Was he really prepared to sacrifice his relationship with his entire family because he didn’t want to have to put up with Thranduil for a few extra days or weeks for the next few decades?

            What would he truly accomplish? He would lose the only sibling he had left, the sons of his heart, any chance at meeting this new child as well as the children Tauriel and Kili were looking forward to one day having. If Fili married, he would not meet his new niece or any of Fili’s children. He would lose the respect of most of the dwarves that had accompanied him to reclaim their lost home. Some of the returning old-timers may not mind, but the younger dwarrow would not understand, and he could not effectively rule a divided people.

            Thorin looked at Thranduil, who was talking quietly to Dís and running his thumb over the back of her hand in unconscious attempt to soothe her. And Dís did indeed look rather frazzled. Balin was glaring at him disapprovingly and so was Tauriel. In fact, the only person in the room who didn’t look like they wanted to heave Thorin bodily off the balcony was Legolas, who appeared to have passed out with his eyes open.

            “I think . . .” Thorin looked over the room. “That we should take a break. Perhaps tomorrow or even the day after, we can resume this in a  . . . friendlier frame of mind.”

 He turned and left the room. Dwalin went with him, glancing back at his brother with concern. Balin went out to check and see if the rooms were ready for their guests. When he returned, Thranduil was helping Dís to her feet.

            “My lady—” he began. She shook her head.

            “Not now, Balin. I’m going to have a bit of a lie down.” He nodded and stepped aside. Thranduil glanced back at Legolas.

            “Take him to his room,” he told a couple of the guards and Fili and Kili led them to Dís’ room. When the couple disappeared behind her door and the lock slid into place, Kili ordered Thranduil’s guards to remain on watch and he, Fili, and Tauriel retreated into the younger couple’s room.

            Fili plopped into a chair and Tauriel and Kili curled up together on the sofa. Kili sighed.

            “Fili, I’m exhausted. And I feel sorry for Mother.”

            Fili grunted in agreement, and took out his pipe. “Tauriel, can I smoke in here?”

            She nodded and closed her eyes. “I’m also concerned for Dís. We don’t know how this stress will affect the baby. I’m pretty sure Thranduil will stay with her the whole night, which will help, but I’ll have a healer come and see to her properly in the morning.”

            Fili finally got his pipe lit and took a long drag. “I hope Thorin thinks long and hard about what he decides to do next. I hope he isn’t going to tear the family apart because he isn’t getting his way.”

            Kili grunted in agreement. “If he tries to send Mother away, I’ll go with her. He might enjoy living under the mountain, but after two years, Fili, I’m desperate for fresh air and the sun.”

            Tauriel’s eyebrow rose. Fili noticed and laughed. “We were raised outdoors, Tauriel. We even lived in a house of the sort Men build for a few years. Mother is right about one thing —Ered Luin was home. Besides meeting you, I almost wish we hadn’t left.”

            Tauriel smiled slightly. “Well, if you had not come, Kili would have eventually married some dwarrow maid and Thorin would be happy to not have an elf in the family. And I would eventually have Sailed.”

            Kili frowned. “I would not have married, Tauriel. That was the problem before. The girls back home think I’m . . .  funny looking.”

            Tauriel laughed. “Yes, yes. So you’ve said.” She sat up. “I must go and see about arranging food for Lady Dís and our guests. You two stay here.”

            She departed and Fili looked at his brother. “You would really leave Thorin over this?”

            “Fili, he’s being unreasonable. Mother is a grow dwarf!”

            Fili agreed. “Well, hopefully Balin and Dwalin can talk some sense into him.”

 

***


	10. Chapter 10

             In his rooms, Thorin stormed around in his bedroom in a towering rage. Dwalin took a chair and sat by the door to the public rooms to keep everyone out and pulled out his pipe. While he was rather surprised Lady Dís had chosen to set her lot with the Elf-king, the fact that she was now expecting and wished to be with the father of her child made sense to him. Thorin was over reacting. There was a discreet knock and Dwalin stood up to let Balin in. The retainer glanced at the closed room door for a moment, then sat beside his younger brother.

            “Well?” He asked. Dwalin shrugged.

            “Nothing yet.” Balin nodded and they waited. Thorin finally yanked open the door to his bedroom to face his two friends and advisers.

            “What in Durin’s Name is she thinking!?” Before they could reply, Thorin slammed the door shut. Dwalin relit his pipe. After a few minutes, there was another light knock. Balin opened the door this time. It was Tauriel, with a tray of food.

            “Everyone rather skipped lunch,” she said, handing it to Balin. He thanked her and he and his brother enjoyed a quick meal while Thorin continued raging in private.

            “Good lass, that one,” Dwalin said when they were done. “I know I didn’t want her here, but she’s more than proved herself, I think.”

            “Aye,” Balin agreed. “And Kili’s calmed down a lot.”

            Dwalin laughed. “Yeah, he’s tired from trying to keep up with Tauriel.”

            Balin shook his head in disapproval. After a while, Thorin fell silent. Dwalin went to the fireplace and tapped out his spent pipe. Finally, Thorin opened his door and took a seat on one of the couches. Balin took the third plate Tauriel had brought and placed it before the king. Thorin grunted his thanks and ate.

            Dwalin resumed his seat and Balin smoked his pipe. When he was finished eating, Thorin pushed the plate away.

            “Thank Tauriel for the food.” Balin’s eyebrow rose and Thorin sighed. “I’m not angry at her. She has nothing to do with this.” He hopped up, moving restlessly about the room. “I just can’t believe what Dís has done! Does she have _any_ concept of what this is _doing_ to the Line of Durin!?”

            “Adding more Immortal blood?” Balin asked. Thorin whirled around and glared at the elderly dwarf.

            “Dammit, Balin!” He resumed his seat and dropped his head into his hands. “I . . . don’t trust him, Balin. Thranduil is an ass! I refuse to surrender my sister to his mercy!”

            “Then don’t,” Dwalin told him. “He already said he was willing to remain here until the babe comes. Depending how far along she is, that gives him nearly a full half year to prove himself. I’m not saying challenge him to armed combat or anything like that, but you’ll have to learn to get along with him sooner or later.”

            Balin was surprised by Dwalin’s words as was Thorin. “Why should I?” Thorin demanded.

            “When Kili and Tauriel have their little one, he’d be coming about anyway. It would be his grandchild.”

            Thorin huffed and Balin nodded. “That is true, Thorin.”

            “Why him?” Thorin demanded. “Of all the beings in Middle Earth, why the one person who betrayed us so thoroughly and so completely? Erebor is a huge place! Why could she not have chosen someone from here? Or some damn where else?”

            Balin sighed. “That is a not a question to which we will ever have an answer. Tell me, would you still be as upset if Men were involved?”

            Thorin considered this. “I’m not sure,” he said finally. “I just don’t understand why the members of this family feel they need to look outside of their Race to be happy!”

            Balin stood up with a huff. “Then get married yourself, and have your own Heirs. Then it won’t matter _what_ Lady Dís and her children do or are. She will go to Mirkwook with King Thranduil and raise her child, and her sons will likely go with her. Kili will be content as long as his wife is with him, and Fili will be able to marry as he wishes.”

            Thorin frowned. Dís had said nearly the same thing to him less than a year ago. They were right—he was over reacting. Dís was his adult sister, not his daughter. She claimed she had walked into this affair with her eyes open, and now, faced with the consequences of her actions, she had come to him to let him know. And she was prepared to walk away, assuming the worst of his responses.

            _‘And I certainly didn’t disappoint her, did I?’_ Thorin though. _‘If I like it or not, Dís will go. Do I really want to lose my sister over this?’_

           Balin was watching Thorin’s face, and after a moment, he sat back down. “There are always positives, Thorin. Always. Dís is happy. It might not be in a manner that _you_ would wish it, but this isn’t about you. Tauriel was brought here to secure a tentative peace. Lady Dís and her child will _insure_ a permanent one.”

            “My sister will not live forever.”

            “No,” Balin agreed. “But her child will. And Fili and Kili and their children after them will be invested in making sure that there is peace. There is a lot more to this than your immediate irritation. There is a future, long after all of us that is playing out here.”

            Thorin hated it when Balin was right. He went to look out of the window. “I need to apologies to Dís.” 

            “Aye, lad,” Balin agreed. “And to Tauriel.”

***

 

            “You brother is an ass,” Thranduil helped Dís into her pajamas and sat beside her as she got into bed. She laughed.

            “I know. Honestly, he reacted a lot better than I was expecting.” Thranduil’s eyebrow rose.

            “ _That_ was better?”

            She nodded. “Much. He only tried to kill you once.” She lay down and closed her eyes. “Is Tauriel right?” She asked. “Will you really not be able to divorce yourself from me?”

            “Dís, I find your lack of faith rather disheartening. Our time together will be short, but I will not leave you. I find you challenging. And amusing.”

            This pulled a half-smile from Dís. “That’s a start at any rate. Perhaps before the end, you may even find me a good companion.”

            She fell asleep before he could reply and Thranduil’s mind turned to his Heir. Legolas was in shock, no doubt about it. It would be days before he spoke with his father, if not weeks. And what could he really say? He’d brought the boy up to dislike and even hate dwarves, and here his father had fallen in with one.

            ‘ _Hoisted by my own petard,’_ he thought with a smirk. Well, he was a grown elf, and he could tolerate whatever abuse Legolas chose to throw at him. It was a dear lesson for all of them, and this new child would reap the benefits of it.

            There was a soft knock. “ _Ada?”_

            He got up and opened the door. Tauriel was holding a tray. “I’ve brought food for you and Lady Dís. Also, I have arranged for a healer to come and examine her tomorrow morning.”

            Thranduil nodded and opened the door. Tauriel placed the tray on a table. She glanced towards Dís’ room.

            “She’s asleep,” he told her. “How’s Legolas?”

            “In his room. The healer says he’s in shock, but he should be fine in a little while.”

            Thranduil snorted. “I’m sure he will be. I’ll try to find some out of the way place for him to yell at me. I’d prefer Dís not be more upset than she currently is.”

            Tauriel nodded. “I agree.” She went back out into the hall. “When she wakes, make her eat at least a little. There really is no precedence for this, and we have been taking no chances.”

            He nodded and shut the door. Tauriel repeated Kili’s instructions to the guards that the couple was not to be bothered and let them know about the healer.

             Back in her rooms, Fili and Kili had fallen asleep. She scooted onto the couch beside Kili and wiggled under him, so he was draped across her chest. He half woke, and smiled at her, and Tauriel crossed her arms behind her head and tried to relax. The day had been quite stressful and tomorrow promised to be even more so.

 

***


	11. Chapter 11

            Balin ordered everyone onto a two-day incommunicado—no-one from the Mirkwood or Erebor parties were to be in contact with each other. Tauriel was deemed a neutral party, and so acted as a go-between, and Thranduil refused to leave Dís alone. Tauriel refused to deliver messages or notes, and any that did manage to find their way onto the food trays went directly to Balin, who took the time to meet briefly with Lady Dís.

            On day three, both parties were gathered in a meeting room in the family quarters. Balin had managed to find a round table to put in this room so no-one was seated at the ‘head’ of the table. Thranduil found it amusing, Thorin was indifferent. Tauriel sat between Fili and Kili, who wanted to sit close to their mother, who was sitting beside Thranduil, forcing Legolas to have to stand or take a seat beside Balin. He sat. Thorin sat on the other side of Balin. Everyone could see everyone else, and the tension in the room was palpable.

            Balin began. “When last we met, there were a lot of things said that were beyond the pale, and frankly rude and unnecessary. We all know why we are here. We need to settle when and where Lady Dís and King Thranduil will be married, and where Lady Dís will have her child. That is _all_ we will discuss.

            It was stated at the last meeting what the fate of this child will be if something happens to Lady Dís, and King Thranduil has agreed. Prince Kili and Princess Tauriel are also in agreement with this plan. Now, shall we begin?”

            Dís glanced at Tauriel and she nodded. “Lady Dís has asked me to speak for her. After the last meeting, the healer and the mid-wife were quite concerned about the amount of stress she was under.”

            Thranduil’s eyebrow rose slightly, but he remained silent. That wasn’t true. In fact, both women had told Dís she was beyond healthy and the baby was fine. Tauriel continued without blinking.

            “Lady Dís believes that, if King Thorin will allow her a one month leniency, she can have the wedding arranged within that time. There is no need for a large, fancy affair—just family, and a few outside friends would be plenty. There is no need to arrange for a huge feast. When all the ceremony is completed, Lady Dís is prepared to take her leave of Erebor.”

           Tauriel paused for dramatic effect, glancing down at the paper in her hand. “She does not expect that she will be welcome in the city again before her death, although she does wish to be buried here, in the manner of her people.”

           Fili and Kili remained stone-faced while Tauriel read. She had told them the night before what Dís and Balin were cooking up, and they hoped they had gotten their laughter out of their systems then.

            Thorin frowned as Tauriel finished reading. “You cannot be serious,” he told Dís. His sister shrugged.

            “You already said you would not agree to this, so this is all I ask.”

            Thorin took a breath and glanced at Balin. “I  . . . have taken the time to consider all the possibilities here,” he began, turning to glare at Thranduil. “I do not trust you, and I never will. I dislike greatly that my sister has managed to become tangled up with you.”

            “Thorin,” Balin’s tone held a warning.

            “However,” Thorin continued, ignoring Balin. “I love my sister. She is the only sibling I have left. And I refuse to give you the satisfaction of tearing my family apart.” Thranduil’s eyebrow rose again.

            “Therefore,” he turned to look at Dís. “You will indeed be married here, though it will not be a huge, grand affair.”

            Dís nodded. “Of course.”

            “And you will have the child here.” He looked at Thranduil again. “I don’t want _you_ here, but I doubt Dís will stay if you do not.”

            Legolas turned to look at his father. “I cannot stay here for six months!”

            “No, you can’t,” Thranduil agreed. “You will go back to the Woods. I will be receiving weekly updates on your progress as you will be taking care of most of the everyday minutia at home.”

            Legolas’ mouth fell open and Tauriel looked away to keep from laughing. “How . . . how long will you be here?” He finally asked.

            “Legolas,” Thranduil looked down his nose at his son, and the prince flushed.

            “Very well,” he said slowly. “When do I leave?”

            “Soon,” Thranduil’s tone said the discussion was over for the moment. Legolas looked away, clearly pouting, and even Thorin’s eyebrow rose. The elf-prince was centuries older than his nephews and he was acting like he was younger than they were. He turned back to his sister.

            “I will stay here for the time being,” Dís agreed. “However, if I decide that the hostility between the two of you is too much to deal with, I will leave. You and Thranduil can snipe at each other as much as you like when I’m not around, I don’t want to be pulled into the middle of your nonsense.”

            Thranduil agreed and Thorin just sighed. “Fine.”

            Balin had been writing while they were talking. He finally put down his pen and slid the paper towards Thorin.

            “If you will just sign this.”

            “What is it?” Thorin asked, suspiciously.

            “Just an agreement that Thranduil is welcome here with minimal hostility until Lady Dís’s baby is born, and that you agreed to host her wedding here.”

            Thorin looked over the paper critically, then signed it. Balin handed it to Thranduil. He glanced over it, and added his name. Tauriel, Fili, and Kili signed it as witnesses. Balin stood up.

            “That was productive. Lady Tauriel, I think we’re ready for lunch.”

            She rose and went out of the room. Thranduil watched her go, then glanced at Dís. “She does household chores all day?” he asked, incredulously.

            Dís laughed. “No, she’s just taking over some of my hostesses duties. She has an archery class first thing in the mornings.”

            “Yes, Legolas mentioned something like that.”

            Tauriel returned. “If everyone would come with me.” She led them into the dining room, and everyone sat down to a tense meal.

 

***


	12. Chapter 12

             Bard came to Erebor for another wedding between and elf and a dwarf. Given the hostility between the two Races, this whole business seemed rather odd to him. Fili was rather happier than he would have liked to see Sigrid, and Tilda was back to being in love with Legolas, and was very happy to see that he was there.

            Just to irritate Thorin, Dís wore red and black. She added the necklace Thranduil had given her as well as the ruby and gold tiara she told him she had never worn.

            Thranduil was rather amused by Thorin’s reaction to the red and black robes he was wearing. He radiated disapproval and then when Dís arrived similarly dressed, Thranduil couldn’t hold back a smirk. Dís must have told her sons what she had in mind, since they were wearing similarly matching colours, and Tauriel was wearing pink and red. Thorin and Legolas looked like the odd ones out, wearing blue and green respectively. Even Bard noticed, but managed to keep a straight face.

            The ceremony was simple, though Balin reworked it a bit, leaving out the loyalty pledges that Tauriel and Kili had taken. Instead, it more resembled a formal elf wedding, with Tauriel and Fili and Kili standing behind their opposite parent and asking for the Valar’s blessing for the couple. They exchanged rings and when Thranduil leaned down to kiss Dís, Thorin looked away.

            During the dinner afterwards, Sigrid couldn’t help but ask Dís how far along she was.

            “Seven months,” she told the girl.

             Sigrid grinned. “Only two months left to go then. That must be a relief.”

             Dís looked surprised. “You only carry for nine months! Tauriel, we got cheated!”

             Tauriel agreed and Sigrid looked confused.

             “It takes us a full year,” Tauriel told the girl and couldn’t help but laugh as all the colour drained from Sigrid’s face.

              “Oh, Lady Dís, I’m so sorry! I . . . didn’t know!”

              “I know you weren’t trying to be mean, dear. Nine months,” she sighed, in envy and Sigrid relaxed a bit. Thranduil was sitting on Dís’ right and Thorin was on her left. Thranduil was busy watching his wife and making sure she ate while Thorin tried his level best to ignore all the elves in the room.

            Bard was watching Fili who was trying to get Sigrid’s attention across the table, but she was pointedly not looking at him. Kili was focused on his food since Legolas was his dinner companion and they neither had much to say to each other.

            Tauriel glanced over the room. There wasn’t likely to be music at this meal, and therefore no dancing. Thorin seemed determined to punish all of them with his displeasure. She sighed and Kili’s head snapped up. She smiled and shook her head, assuring him that she was fine. She turned to Bard.

            “How are the farms coming along?”

            Bard glanced at Dís then smiled at Tauriel. “Quite well, actually. Thanks to your father’s generosity, we should have a decent harvest this year.”

            “And the rebuilding?” Tauriel hated it when she had to try to come up with things to keep the conversation flowing.

            “That is also nearly done. There are families moving back daily. I expect that we might even have the market open by the fall.”

            Fili looked down the table at Thorin. “Uncle, I’d like to meet with Bard to arrange for a few of our people to set up a few stalls. It will be good to restart the trade with Dale.”

            This topic kept the diners occupied for a while, then Tauriel and Thranduil noticed at the same time that Dís was starting to doze. He rose, and gently tugged her to her feet.

            “Nap time,” he bowed to the room at large and led her out.

            “I’m fine,” she protested.

            “Of course, my dear. No-one suspected you. But just the same, it wouldn’t hurt to rest.” The door shut behind them, even Legolas managed a smile as the rest of the guests chucked. Tauriel put her napkin on the table.

            “Thank you everyone, for being here today, and offering your good wishes for Lady Dís and my father.”

            She turned to Sigrid and Tilda. “Perhaps you would care for tea in my sitting room?”

            The girls rose and left the males alone. Kili watched her go with a sigh. With his mother leaving, Kili knew that it was Tauriel’s job to take over Dís hostess duties. He glanced at Fili.

            “When are you getting married?” He asked, half accusing. Fili choked on his drink.

            “What?!” Bard and Thorin laughed, and Legolas shook his head.

***

 December

 

            Lady Dís went into labour the week before the elves’ New Year, which sent Thorin into high dudgeon as he finally put together the timing of Dís and Thranduil’s relationship.  Thranduil ignored him as he had gotten quite used to doing in the last five months and went to sit with Dís, against the wishes of all three of the mid-wives and healers that were attending her. Tauriel sent for Legolas, and he arrived within a few hours, looking harried.

            “Does this mean _Ada_ will be coming home this week?” He demanded as he came into the room. Tauriel got up to greet him with a kiss on the cheek and the forehead touch she was used to giving Fili and Kili. Legolas was shocked into silence by that, but she didn’t seem to notice. She sat back down and picked up the mess of yarn and sticks she had been holding.

            “Dori is teaching me to knit,” she held it up for Legolas’ inspection. “I’m . . . not very good at it, though.”

            He sat down. “No, you’re not. But you have at least a century to figure it out.”

            She nodded and put the mess aside. “True. You look tired, Brother.”

            Legolas leaned back and closed his eyes. “I’m _exhausted_! I hope I _never_ have to be king! The last six months have been the worst! I honestly have no concept how _Ada_ makes it look so easy. And I’m not doing any of the major stuff!” He sighed. “Is he coming home this week?”

            Tauriel laughed. “Yes, he is.”

            “Thank the Valar!” He sat up as the door opened and Kili and Fili poked their heads in.

            “Come in.” she told them. They slipped in and shut the door.

            “Uncle Thorin is still yelling in his room. Dwalin is sitting in the hall, smoking his pipe.”

            Tauriel laughed. “Well, noting is happening at the moment, but if you want to hide out in here, you’re more than welcome.”

            Kili plopped on the couch beside his wife’s knitting. He picked it up and inspected it for a moment, then began pulling at the strings.

            “What are you doing?” She asked. “You’ll make it worse.”

            He tugged one string, and it fell neatly into his lap. “What are you doing?” He asked, rewinding the yarn. Legolas laughed and she blushed.

            “I’m trying to knit.”

            “Oh.” He tossed the yarn to Fili who continued winding the ball and pulled out her needles. “Can . .  . I . . . just . . . fix this?”

            Tauriel huffed. “Whatever.” He began ripping out her rows and after it was less than half of its original size, he slid the needles back into place. Fili finished winding the ball and tossed it back. Kili dropped it into Tauriel’s lap.

            “Okay, now try it.”

            Tauriel stared at the fabric for a moment. “How do you know to do this?”

            Fili snorted. “Tauriel, I keep reminding you, we weren’t born rich. We were princes in name only. And idle hands mean an empty belly.”

            She nodded and refocused on trying to remember what Dori had told her. Legolas fell asleep, and Fili and Kili talked about what the baby might look like and if it would get a dwarf or elf name. Tauriel finally remembered Dori’s instructions and carefully began working again. Periodically, Kili would stop her and correct her work, but for the most part, he left her to her own devices.

            After a few hours, Thorin had calmed down enough to come and see how things were progress, but since there was no news, he went away again. Eventually, they all fell asleep, but were startled awake by Dís yelling abuse at Thranduil. Tauriel went in to see if they needed help and didn’t come back. Kili shared a worried look with his brother. Legolas frowned.

            “Does it usually take this long?”

          “Yes,” All three of them jumped as Thorin joined them. “Or longer.” He pointed at Fili. “You took two days.” He turned to Kili. “You were only 18 hours.”

            “Two days!” Fili and Legolas squeaked in unison.

            He sat down and sighed. “Where’re Tauriel?”

           “Helping.” Kili pulled out his pipe, then put it away. Dís swore again and Thranduil laughed. Thorin frowned. He picked up Tauriel’s knitting and shook his head. Kili grinned.

            “It looks better now,” he said. “I fixed it a bit.”

             Thorin put it down, silently despairing that the girl would never really learn anything domestic. But maybe it didn’t matter, she was a soldier first, and he needed those more that he needed another seamstress. Dís cried out again and a long silence fell. A high, thin wail of clearly offended dignity floated through the door, and Fili and Kili jumped up to wait just outside the door.

            A few minutes passed, and Tauriel opened the door and slipped back into the main room. She smiled at everyone.

            “It is a girl,” she said. The Durin princes exchanged happy grins.

            “What does she look like?” Legolas asked.

            “A short elf with a beard. _Ada_ is already despairing over it. And she’s blond.”

            Thorin laughed and stood up. “Best news I’ve had in months.”

            Tauriel rolled her eyes. “It’s just fuzz really, I don’t even know why he’s whining.” She went back into the room and after a minute she reopened the door.

            “Gentlemen, come and meet your sister and niece.” They all trooped obligingly into the room. Thranduil was sitting casually in a chair beside the bed, rubbing one long finger across the baby’s cheek. Dís smiled at them.

            “Fili, Kili, Legolas — meet your sister, Mali.”

            Legolas started and looked at his father, but Thranduil didn’t say anything. Fili and Kili grinned and took turns holding her while Thorin watched his sister. Thranduil was keeping a sharp eye on the princes and as soon as Mali began fussing, he got up and took her back. Kili grinned at his wife and she squeezed his hand.

          Thranduil was already overprotective of his daughter. Thorin eyed the baby for a moment.

           “She looks like you did,” he told her. Dís smiled.

           “Thank you, Brother.” Tauriel shooed everyone out and pulled the door shut behind her. As she did, she heard Dís say:

            “That went better than I expected.”

            “You’re too pessimistic, my dear.”

             Tauriel closed the door. Kili and Fili were already heading out into the hall with their pipes.

             “Just think, Kili, in a few more years, that will be you and Tauriel.”

             “Fili, don’t say that. I’m too young to be a father!”

             “You’re too young to be _married_ and yet here you are.” The door shut and Tauriel shook her head and gathered up her knitting. Legolas watched her.

              “Can I get a bed, sister?”

              “Yes, come on.” She let him out, leaving Thorin alone. He sat back down, and studied the closed door to the delivery room.

               Like it or not, Thranduil was a permanent part of the family, and New Year’s was a week away. Just as his annoyance rose back to the surface, he remembered what a holy terror Dís was when she was a child, and his mood improved. Thranduil was going to have his hands full for the next few decades.

              He got up and decided to join Fili and Kili. And he would keep it to himself that Mali was a pretty child.

 

***

 

THE END

 

CHIBIMETHOS, 2014


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